Darkness Visible
by lisbei
Summary: Adam Lambert/Kris Allen. The Idol Reunion was meant to perk up American Idol's lagging ratings and give Kris Allen and Adam Lambert some extra publicity - instead, they get a trip to another dimension out of the deal. Not bad, huh? Except Adam's not talking to him, almost everyone they meet wants to kill them, and there are monsters.
1. Chapter 1

Kris was dreaming.

He was sure of that, even though everything seemed more real and vivid than any of his dreams had ever been. He was in a forest, which was strange enough. Usually his dreams were more city-based. One recent recurring dream involved a room full of men in suits staring at him expectantly, while he tried to explain what his latest song would add to the album. Except when he tried to play it for them he realised that his guitar was now a stuffed unicorn, and when he looked up again the men in suits had been joined by Barney and Optimus Prime.

So, the trees were new. They were also disturbingly real, with dew that dripped and slid down his neck clammily. Dead leaves crunched underfoot, and he nearly tripped over an exposed root, catching himself in the last minute and scraping his knuckles on a low branch. Wait, catching himself? Why was he bothering? He should just, _wake up_. Why couldn't he wake up?

The night in his dream was pitch dark, with heavy clouds covering the moon. His stomach was churning for no real reason, while out of the corner of his eyes he kept glimpsing furtive, scurrying movements. There was a sour taste in his mouth, like fear and panic combined, until he started running, and all the while his brain was screaming at him to wake up, why the fuck couldn't he wake up? He blundered through the forest, the air burning in his lungs, until a random shaft of moonlight made him look up. He desperately fought to breathe, and time slowed down as the darkness started moving towards him in a wave. He screamed, and- woke up.

Kris was lying in bed, at home. He was safe. He gasped for breath as the cold sweat dried, and he automatically looked to his side to check that he hadn't woken Katy.

Oh. Of course. He kept forgetting that Katy was gone. It had only been a few months since the divorce, and he cursed his sense memory that expected her to be lying next to him. He wanted to check the time – the sunlight lancing through gaps in the shades suggested that it was late morning, but that couldn't be right, could it? He tried to work through the dream in his head, but the details were already fading away. Besides, he felt completely exhausted, and his muscles ached as though he had _really_ just run for his life through a forest filled with unimaginable horrors. Even as he fought to stay awake, his eyes drifted shut, and he fell into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

_WAKE UP, LITTLE SUSIE, WAKE UP!_

Kris shot up and banged around on his bedside table with his eyes closed, trying desperately to turn off whatever alarm clock from hell was making that horrible noise. When nothing he did made a difference, he remembered that was the ringtone Lizzie had programmed for herself, arguing that no-one could sleep through that. Yes, but was it grounds for justifiable homicide, he thought blearily as he finally located his mobile, and answered it, reveling in the sudden silence.

"Kris? Kris! Tell me I didn't just wake you. Kris? Don't tell me you spent the whole day sleeping!"

Kris yawned and stumbled out of bed, practically feeling his way to the shower. "Ok, I won't tell you." He put the phone on a cabinet, put it on speaker, and got into the shower, hoping irrationally that the spray would short it out. No such luck though, he could still hear Lizzie loud and clear, even through the noise of the shower.

"Tell me you didn't forget about the reunion." Kris yawned again. Lizzie really loved to use those rhetorical questions, or were they question-statements? Whatever, she loved that shit.

"No, I didn't forget."

Even through his half-closed eyes as he'd lurched through his bedroom, he'd still seen the outfit hanging on the door of his wardrobe ("Because you'll come in plaid or some such shit"), a near replica of what he'd been wearing for the Idol finale: white t-shirt, black jacket, blue jeans.

Lizzie was rattling on as if he hadn't spoken.

" . . . and you'll be sharing a limo with Lambert, but your teams will be in another car, don't worry, we'll meet you at the Nokia, the idea is that you walk the red carpet together, still best friends after all this time . . ."

Kris leaned against the shower wall, hot water pounding down on his back, and tried not to wince at her words. He was not going to feel guilty about losing touch with Adam. _Adam_ hadn't really made an effort recently, right? No, not after you blew him off when you and Katy . . . when that thing happened. He tried to wipe his brain clean as he shaved. He had his reasons, but even those reasons were a minefield now that he was going to share a car ride with Adam. Alone. Just the two of them. He swallowed apprehensively, avoiding his eyes in the bathroom mirror.

He hadn't told anyone why he couldn't really talk to Adam after the divorce. He didn't even want to admit the reasons to himself. He had decided to deal with the, ah, _issue_ as he dealt with all his personal problems. Avoidance, and a belief that things would work themselves out if left alone. Hey, it had worked in the past, right? Yeah, if by worked he meant, probably led to his divorce. Whatever. He and Katy had just married too young. Marry in haste, repent at leisure. He winced as he replayed his last thought. When had he turned into his mother?

Liz was still chattering on about the great publicity this whole Idol thing was going to create for him – he doubted she'd sound so happy if she knew what his reasons had been for cutting contact with Adam. Well. That was behind them now. Kris was confident that they could catch up again where they left off, without any uncomfortable feelings to get between them. They were adults, and Adam would understand.

He checked himself over in the mirror before leaving the apartment, and out of force of habit he looked at the nightstand for his wedding ring, before remembering that, get a grip, Kris, he didn't wear it anymore. His fingers looked strange without it. Looking closely he noticed a scrape on his knuckles. He stared, hypnotized, at his hand, and tried to remember where he'd done that, but the dream had almost faded completely from his head, and any stray memory was blown away by the sound of the doorbell.

Idol reunion. What a crock. Adam realised he was chewing on his lower lip in irritation, over and over, and willed himself to stop. Yet _another_ evening of pretending that the months in the mansion had been the best time of his life, leaving behind _ever-lasting friendships_. He realised he was hearing his thoughts in the voice of one of the ET red-carpet interviewers, and rolled his eyes. The sound bites wrote themselves. He wasn't sure why he was so angry, though there were reasons, which he kept repeating to himself. He already _had_ friends, who would be perfectly happy to come to this reunion with him. Brad, Alisan, Danielle, any of those would be overjoyed to walk the red carpet and pose for photos. Why shouldn't they get the opportunity? At least he wouldn't be lying if he was asked about _those_ friends.

He shifted irritably in his seat. Enormous limo, with couches and a mini-bar and a DVD player, for fuck's sake, and he still couldn't get comfortable.

Yeah, about that great friendship. Like any of the other guys had ever bothered keeping in touch. He ignored the niggling voice at the back of his head which reminded him, hadn't he been the one to lose touch because he was so crazy busy? And anyway, didn't he mean Kris when he said 'the other guys'?

Every time he remembered he had to cringe: he'd found out about Kris's divorce on TMZ. All his calls had gone to voicemail. All his texts had gone unanswered. After a week of steadily trying to get in touch with Kris, Lane had taken him aside to tell him, as diplomatically as she could, to stop.

"Kris wants me to stop?" He hardly recognized the cracked whisper as his own voice.

Lane winced. "His management asked. They don't want any extra stories starting up. Bad enough he's getting divorced, he doesn't need any 'Adam turned Kris Allen gay!' headlines. And neither do you."

She said the last with a stern look at him, as stern as Lane ever got.

"You know I'd never do anything, never . . ."

Lane rolled her eyes.

"Do you think that matters to Perez? Or any of those guys?"

She was right. And so he'd stopped. And now it was six months later, and he had to share a limo with Kris for the long drive to the Nokia theatre, without even his and Kris's management to smooth over any awkward moments. Adam didn't get why, at first. Lane had tried to explain how the Idol people wanted to bring back memories of their season with the final two together again, and so on and so forth, and it was as fake and superficial and cheesy as Idol ever got. He had to lie and fake it, pretend everything was ok, when she knew he hated lies more than anything. She _knew_ that. He didn't press the issue with Lane, because it was obvious who was pulling her strings, but all that manipulation was calculated to piss him off.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. A loving relationship between two men, that wasn't family friendly, oh no. But some fake friendship, that was ok. Fuck Idol, fuck Seacrest, fuck everyone. He was flicking through (but not even seeing) various musical selections, when the limo started slowing down, and he supposed they'd nearly arrived at Kris's apartment. He decided to pour himself a drink, maybe it would calm him down. He could hear Lane's voice in his head telling him it was a bad idea, and that made him want to drink even more. Fuck you, family friendly show, he thought, as he rummaged around in the mini-bar until he found his favourite vodka. No-one said he had to be _sober_ for it.

Adam looked out of the window of the car, and saw the driver walking back to the limo. Kris was following him, and his outfit brought back a flash of déjà vu which was almost painful in its intensity. Oh, fuck him. He was wearing the exact outfit he'd worn in the finale, and the rush of emotion almost brought him to tears. They told _him_ to wear the same outfit too, but he had no intention of giving in, though he settled for compromise rather than outright rebellion. So he was wearing black jeans and a blazer, rather than a black suit, and combat boots enhanced the ensemble. Ok, so you hardly saw the boots under the jeans, but it gave him the private feeling that he was sticking it to them. The finishing touch, the best part, was the bag-holster he had strapped to his leg, the one he got from Skingraft. And if Lane and Roger knew what he'd filled it with, they'd have matching aneurysms, he thought, allowing himself a mean smirk as he chugged down his second shot of vodka. Yes, she'd make him take it off after the red carpet, but it would be in a million photos by then.

Kris spent the short walk to the limo going over what he'd say to Adam. Still, all his tentative ideas vanished when he got in and actually sat next to Adam, who didn't even look up from his mobile phone. Adam's profile could have been used in a picture dictionary to illustrate 'pissed off'. Kris winced. Maybe this wasn't going to be as straightforward as he'd thought.

"Hey man, how're you doing? Long time . . ."

Kris's cheery greeting trailed off into an awkward silence. Adam had turned towards him, and the force of his glare dried the words up in his mouth. And worse than that - to his horror, Kris realized that he was getting a little turned on. He'd forgotten how intensely Adam felt everything, and Adam was incredibly attractive right then, his eyes flashing, his fists clenched . . .

Kris realized that maybe pissing off someone who was almost twice his size hadn't been such a good idea. At least Adam didn't have the room to take a swing at him in the limo. Wait a minute, attractive? His mouth got even drier. He'd _dealt_ with this. There was no way it would ever work between them. He might have found out, years ago, that he could be attracted to men, but he'd never done anything about it, and he never would. And he _wasn't_ going to glance down at Adam's lap to see if their interaction was having the same effect on him.

"Adam, this is just . . . stupid."

Oh great, Kris thought. He's really going to enjoy being insulted. In fact, Adam crossed his arms, and stared mutinously ahead of him. Kris forged on, trying to sound like he'd always done, easy-going and laid back. That'd always worked for him in the past, right?

"Can't we just get over this, and be friends again? Wow, that came out way more 'teenage girl' than it sounded in my head. I just needed some time . . . to get over . . . stuff . . ."

What was _wrong_ with him? Why couldn't he ever get out what he felt? He wished Gina was there, she could handle this sort of thing so much better than him, and he immediately felt disgusted with himself. This was what he'd become, some plastic L.A. celebrity who needed his publicist to have conversations for him.

Adam decided he'd had enough. Six months of radio silence, and _this_ was how Kris wanted to play it? Oh, yes, let's just sweep everything under the carpet – who wants to start braiding the friendship bracelets? Squashing the voice in his head which was still bleating, but I didn't do anything wrong, Adam steeled himself.

"Kris, let's just, just do this . . . thing." He waved his hand around, taking in the limo, their outfits, the whole situation. He saw Kris opening his mouth to rebut and forestalled him.

"We were never friends." He winced at how harsh that sounded, but forged on. "It was just, like in college, you know? We were in the same situation, and then it was over. You don't owe me anything. I just got too attached, like I always do."

He gave a little laugh, to show that it wasn't bothering him, at all. Trust Kris to make it all about their quote unquote friendship. Like Adam had been, what, pining after Kris like some lovesick poodle. He'd had his friends, and a couple of, of _boyfriends_ in between. So he acted a little needy sometimes, that had been no reason for Kris to practically issue a restraining order.

Kris didn't say anything. When Adam looked at him, he was looking down, frowning. Adam shrugged. He didn't have anything else to say. He'd been angry before, but now he just felt tired. Well. That was it, then.

Kris stared out of the window as the limousine wound its way through the L.A. streets. He should be looking out on a rain-washed soulless urban landscape, to match his mood, but it was a beautifully sunny day in Los Angeles. Though the streets were looking more and more run down; which route were they taking to the Nokia? He looked over at Adam, who had put his earphones on, and was listening to music and fiddling with his mobile. Tweeting again, no doubt.

Kris tried to imagine what he was writing.

_Dumb-ass hick tried to make peace, don't worry guys, shot him down! :)_

Kris rolled his eyes at himself. That wasn't fair to Adam. He was never _that_ mean. Kris looked out of the window again, and thought that the driver must be lost. Kris had no idea where they were, and he'd become pretty familiar with the route to and from the mansion. He tapped Adam lightly on the knee, and Adam looked up at him, pulling one of the earbuds out.

"Is this the way to the Nokia? Only I don't remember ever taking this route . . ."

Adam leaned past him to look out of the window, and Kris stiffened. This close, he could smell Adam's cologne, feel the warmth of his skin, he could even see where that one freckle on Adam's lip always defeated the vast amounts of make-up Adam used to hide it. It wasn't working. All that time he'd held back from calling Adam after the divorce, from just turning up on his doorstep and throwing himself at Adam, all that _wasted_ time had been for nothing. He was back where he'd started, desperately attracted to this, this _man_. He braced himself, as if for a blow, and hoped that Adam hadn't noticed. Adam did look at him quizzically, but then settled back in his seat, and looked at his phone again.

"That's Sergio. The driver?" Adam raised his eyebrows at Kris's questioning look. "He hates traffic. Like, _hates_ it. He'll drive around in circles for hours if it means he won't have to stop anywhere. You get used to it!"

Adam smiled, and Kris suddenly felt jealous of this _Sergio_ guy who could get such easy smiles from Adam. Yeah, that's rational, he thought. Get jealous of the _driver_, the guy who was just doing his job.

Adam just kept fiddling with his phone, pointedly ignoring Kris, who was just about to go back to his contemplation of the obstinately sunny streets outside the car window, when the phone exploded in a flurry of buzzing, with about five text messages arriving at once.

"What the fuck?" Adam read the tweets that had just arrived, growing paler under his make-up. "Earthquake," he whispered. "A big one, they're saying."

As if set off by his words, the car started shaking and lurching from side to side. The privacy panel slid down, and Sergio yelled:

"I can't keep her straight! I think it's an earthquake! I'm gonna try and pull over!"

Adam and Kris were both holding on to the armrests as the car, which was now shuddering and jolting, wove an erratic line to the side of the street. Kris was just about to yell a warning about getting too close to the buildings, when a lighting pole crashed onto the hood and the car juddered to a halt.

The shaking seemed to go on forever, until Kris felt he was going insane. Every second he expected an avalanche of concrete and cement blocks to crush the car they were in like a tin can, but it stopped as suddenly as it had started. Kris took a couple of quick breaths, before he realised that something had cushioned his fall onto the floor of the limo. Something? Try _someone_. He winced. Carefully, he let go of Adam's hand and pulled himself onto the car seat.

The more he tried to get away from this, this _thing_ he had for Adam, the more the fucking universe conspired to throw him in Adam's lap! Literally. Adam was looking pissed off, again, but Kris decided to cut off anything he wanted to say. Anything he was entitled to say, his mind interjected, what with you treating him like a leper. He shook his head, and managed to distract Adam.

"Sergio!" he blurted. "Is he ok?"

Adam looked at the driver's seat. Sergio was slumped over the wheel, where the airbag had inflated, but he must have hit his head before that. They got out of the car and opened the driver's door.

"Should we move him? Won't that be bad for his neck?" Adam looked worried. He kept making tentative movements towards Sergio's shoulder, and pulling back again, unsure of what needed to be done. Kris had done a first aid course, years ago. Still, he couldn't remember what to do if someone was unconscious and slumped over a steering wheel. He should check for danger, that's right. That was the first step. Well, they were in the middle of the road, away from any of the buildings which might be on the verge of collapse. So, for the moment, he couldn't see anything which could endanger them.

So, the second step, what was that? Recovery position? Fuck, the course was so long ago. He vaguely remembered this kind of example case; slumped over the wheel . . . no, that was ok, wasn't it? He shouldn't try to move him. It came back to him in a flash: call for help. That came next. He looked around, only to see that Adam was already a few metres away, waving his mobile in the air, trying for a signal. Adam's attention was split between checking his phone and picking his way over the rubble, avoiding the large cracks in the asphalt.

And then there was the enormous, glowing crack in the air. No, it wasn't a crack, was it? It was a tear. A rip, in the fabric of reality itself. The words resounded in his head like the voiceover to the trailer of some insane fantasy movie. This couldn't be real. It was obscene and unnatural, and if he shut his eyes it would vanish. He opened his eyes again. It was still there. He could hear his quick breaths, which were started to sound like wheezes, or even whimpers, and he willed himself to do something, anything besides just stand there. He opened his mouth to call out a warning to Adam, who wasn't really watching where he was going, but the words dried up and all that came out was a cracked whisper. This wasn't happening. He was in shock. It was a hallucination. He must have hit his head in the car, and this would all vanish in a moment. Any minute now.

Kris forced himself to move forward and call out, just as Adam stepped backwards, intent on his mobile phone, and disappeared through the glowing gap in the air. Kris's thoughts stuttered as he shook his head, involuntarily. No. That can't happen. That's-

"Unacceptable."

He clapped his hand over his mouth. Now he was speaking to himself. That's what crazy people did. Yes, exactly. He was going crazy. He hadn't really seen Adam stumble backwards and disappear into thin air. The rip was still there, though. He walked forward stiffly, like a marionette, and touched it. It didn't tingle or anything. It was just there. He tried to force himself to call Adam again, but his voice cracked. One thing at a time. He had to find Adam first. No fucking crazy psych ward bullshit was going to take Adam away from him. Ignoring the snide mental voice which was trying to remind him that he hadn't wanted Adam in the first place, he took a deep breath, and followed Adam into the void.

Had he actually just thought that? _Into the void?_ What really happened was, kind of, a let-down. He stepped into a pitch-black landscape and immediately stumbled over something and landed on a cushioned surface. Adam sighed deeply.

"Kris. When all this shit is over, we are going to _discuss_ the fact that you keep landing on top of me. But for now, can you please get your knee out of my upper thigh? I think you missed my balls by a hair. _My_ hair. Which you are also on."

Kris blushed, and mumbled a quick apology as he levered himself off Adam's body without getting his elbow in Adam's face.

"And where the fuck is this, anyway? And why is my face wet?"

Adam's phone was lying next to him – it gave out a faint glow, and Kris used it to light up Adam's face. His look of horror must have been clearly visible even in the dim light, because Adam's expression changed from annoyed to exasperated. Not much of a change there, thought Kris.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have no poker face, like, at all?"

"Adam, there's blood . . . your face . . . you're bleeding . . ."

Kris started making tentative movements towards Adam, who immediately slapped his hands away, muttering something about Kris rolling in the filth and then touching his face. He felt in his pockets and found an ancient wet wipe, which was still sealed.

"Adam, you can't see what you're doing. Let me." He wiped the blood off as carefully as he could, and then looked at Adam's face.

"Um."

"What? What's wrong? Will it scar?" Adam sounded panicky.

"No, no." He tried to sound reassuring. "It's just that, half your makeup is gone now. I can't actually find the cut on your face. It must be a scalp wound."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Then take the other half off. Just _try_ not to ruin my eye make-up. It took me long enough."

As Kris worked on Adam's face, his eyes adjusted gradually to the ambient light – it wasn't pitch-dark, just a cloudy night, which was strange, as minutes ago they'd been in a bright sunlit street.

"Now that we've treated my _massive_ injuries, can you please look around you and tell me why it's night time and why we're in a forest? Or is this my hallucination? The knock on the head is making me see stuff?" He looked around him, craning his neck and wincing as the movement pulled at the hidden wound above his hairline.

"Lots of trees . . . the fuck did they come from?"

"Trees?"

Kris turned to look around him, really look, for the first time since they'd landed there, wherever _there_ was. In the diffuse light Adam could see that Kris was really shocked by the _trees_ more than anything, not the almost complete darkness around them.

"I've seen this forest before."

Kris spoke in a barely audible, terrified whisper. Adam didn't understand what was going on, but was determined to do something – he pulled himself upright with an effort, ignoring the sudden wave of dizziness and faint nausea this caused. He hadn't lost consciousness. At least, he didn't remember blacking out. He looked at the screen of his phone. It seemed to be working normally, but there was no reception.

He tried to get online, but there were no networks in range. Adam bit his lip, thinking, and immediately wished he hadn't. He must have cut the inside of his mouth when he fell, because that was sore too. In fact, come to think about it, he was sore all over, with special pain coming from his head, and the bruises formed when Kris kept landing on top of him.

Scrolling through the menu on his phone he remembered something.

"Yeah . . . we'll soon see where we are," he muttered.

He glanced up at Kris who was facing away from him, and seemed to be waving his hands in the air. What was he _doing_? He looked like he was feeling for something, but there was nothing behind them. Adam shrugged, and found the app he'd been looking for. _Score_.

Kris was still trying to find the tear again, when a bright light lanced past him piercing the darkness, and moved slowly over their surroundings, revealing what he'd been afraid to admit, even to himself. He knew this forest. This was bad. This was so, so bad.

He lunged at Adam, grabbing for his phone and turning off the light. He was trying hard to keep his breathing under control, but the panic was swallowing him up.

"What the fuck, Kris? Kris? Come on, calm down, buddy, we'll be fine."

Kris heard the change in Adam's tone when he saw how close to losing it he was, but he couldn't pull himself together. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, watching himself freak out, and still unable to do a thing about it. This must be what going crazy feels like, he thought distantly. In the midst of his panic, he realised that Adam was hugging him and patting him on the back.

"Kris. _Kris_. We can't panic, come on. There's a rational explanation for this, and we'll find it. Come on."

"_Explanation_? Adam, we're in the _middle_ of a _forest_ – there are no fucking forests in downtown L.A.! And I've been in this forest in my fucking nightmares and this is not good, not good at all! Adam? Adam, are you even listening to me?"

"Did you hear that?"

Kris couldn't hear anything at first through the blood rushing through his ears. Then he thought he did hear something. A sound of, of _screaming?_

Before Kris had time to react, Adam had lurched to his feet towards the sounds.

"No, Adam, don't-"

Not _towards_ the screaming, Adam, his mind supplied, unhelpfully. He wanted to say things like, "there's nothing we can do for them", and he was shocked at his thoughts, except for the creeping feeling of horror and mind-numbing revulsion he remembered from his dream.

Adam had already fought his way through some dense thickets by the time Kris caught up with him, and was struggling through the trees, gasping for breath. The air seemed to be heavier there, and even Kris felt like he was moving slower and with more difficulty.

"There might . . . be people . . . trapped after the earthquake. We have to help them," Adam gasped out, resting for a few seconds under a tree.

"Adam, we don't know that's what happened here."

"_Here_? What do you mean, here? We're where we were half an hour ago, right? Right?"

But Adam couldn't meet his eyes when he said that. Kris just shook his head and followed him, until they reached what looked like a campsite, or what had been a campsite before something had happened to it. Kris wasn't sure what. Nothing good, though.

Adam could hardly believe what he was seeing. There were some men who looked like they had wandered out of the nearest Ren Faire, but somehow, not. Their clothes didn't look like costumes put on for the occasion, but actually worn, lived in (lived in a lot), and even fought in. They were all holding swords, and were standing back to back, swords pointed outward, next to a small fire which was almost out. Scattered around the site, randomly, were heaps of bones with rags stuck to them, and some of those bones had swords lying next to them too. Those were people once? His mind was screaming at him, in disbelief. What would do this to people?

As if prompted by his thoughts, what looked like a black wave flowed slowly over one of the strangely-dressed men, who shrieked horribly, once. The dark . . . thing lifted over the spot where the man had been, to reveal a pile of half-melted bones and a pitted sword.

The remaining two men spotted Adam and Kris and yelled something at them – it sounded like English but with some kind of thick accent that neither Kris nor Adam could understand, but Adam got the gist.

Monsters. That eat people. At night. What the fuck is this place? What does Kris mean, he saw it in a dream?

As if in his own dream, he walked slowly towards the fire. His thoughts were a confused gabble of disbelief and terror; and disbelief was winning. None of this was real. He'd been knocked out during the earthquake, and his body was now lying in a wonderfully clean hospital bed, hooked up to many beeping machines, with his family around him begging for him to wake up. Maybe a couple of hot guys in scrubs, looking worried.

Any minute now, he was going to wake up. Any minute now. One of the weird guys spotted him and started yelling something at him. The man grabbed one of the discarded swords and ran towards him. Through the buzzing of his thoughts, Adam felt almost relieved. Now that guy will stab me, and I'll wake up, he thought. That's what happens in dreams. He felt calm at the thought, almost serene. Somewhere else, people were panicking and dying, but he couldn't, wouldn't hear them.

Instead of stabbing him, the man pushed the sword into his hand, and Adam had to hold on to it to stop it from dropping to the ground. Instinctively, his fingers curled round the hilt. What did he mean, instinctively? What instinct? Somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, a voice was still screaming at him, to drop the sword, to run, to run faster than he'd ever run before. But it felt like the voice was fading, was retreating, until there was nothing in his mind but the sword. He knew how to use it. Somehow, he knew. And unless he acted, right now, he was going to die here. And no one would ever know what had happened to him. He was sure of this.

A place between his shoulder-blades itched. He _knew_ there was something behind him, something moving furtively, scurrying, circling. He turned, lifting the sword, and the darkness grew a mouth, and fell towards him.

Kris could only watch in horror as Adam accepted the sword. Adam seemed to be looking at it, puzzled. He wanted to yell at him to stop, to come back, but like in nightmares, he couldn't make a sound. He saw the thing move obscenely fast through the air towards Adam, but Adam turned, and in the same movement, slashed at it and it burst, spattering him and the two other men with a black, stinking liquid.

Kris finally managed to get his frozen limbs to move and ran towards Adam.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Kris could hear his voice going really high in panic and near hysteria. "We have to run; we can't fight these things!"

Adam gave him a look which was difficult to work out. For a second, he looked just as freaked out as Kris felt, but then he blinked, and his fingers tightened on the sword. While he scanned the area around them he bent towards Kris, whispering out of the corner of his mouth.

"Kris, I have no idea what the fuck is going on, but we don't have the time for a discussion right now."

Even though the words made sense, Adam sounded so calm that Kris found himself resenting how easily he was handling this impossible situation. On the other hand, Adam could just be in shock.

"Running isn't the answer – we can't outrun them," Adam continued.

"We can't fight them either; all these other guys tried, and look where it got them."

Kris was the only one who looked at the piles of bones scattered around the campsite. The others were all staring at the sky, trying to prepare for the next attack. He came to a decision, and dropped to his knees in front of the fire.

"We just have to get it going again, ok? All animals are afraid of fire, right?"

He was babbling, a first, for him. Being in an actual, real-life horror movie, that was another.

He fed the fire with some twigs which he managed to grab from the forest floor, and it revived slightly. The men were gabbling something at him, and tried to push another sword in his hand. They were probably saying that there were too many of those things for the fire to affect, and that his best bet was a sword. Kris wished he could have told them that sword fighting was not a skill he had ever pursued, though he didn't think it would have consoled them at all. The fire started to die down again, and he knew another attack was close. Sure enough, he saw Adam's sword (that was a mind-fuck in itself, Adam's sword) flashing in the firelight as it dispatched another of those horrible blob-like things, while one of the weirdly-dressed guys died horribly on his other side.

Kris couldn't help thinking that their whole situation was pointless. There's too many of them, he thought. And why won't this stupid fire stay lit? Just grow! He yelled at the fire in his head, and suddenly the flames shot up, almost burning off his eyebrows. What the fuck? He exchanged looks with Adam.

"Did you do that?" Adam shot a quick look at him while trying to keep an eye out.

Kris didn't know what to answer. He settled for a noncommittal noise, and added: "I don't know how, though."

"Can you do it again?"

_You can do something better_, a voice in his head assured him, calmly. Wait a minute, he thought, that's not me!

_I can help you,_ the voice said again. And I'm supposed to listen to the voices in my head, he thought back, answering the voice, even though he could hardly believe it was real, rather than a sign that he had really lost his mind. _You are going to be eaten by creatures of the night unless you listen to them,_ the voice said, sharper this time. _You have to do exactly as I say._

Kris got up suddenly and pulled Adam down to his knees.

"What the- Kris? What are you doing?"

"I don't have time to explain. You just have to trust me. Can you?"

Adam looked up at Kris in the firelight, and Kris had this sudden, random thought that Adam had never looked more beautiful. And he'd had the chance to kiss him and never took it. That particular regret was almost physically painful right now.

"Of course," Adam said. "Always."

Kris wanted so badly to tell Adam how he felt, but pulled himself back with an effort. There would be time enough for that. He would make time for that.

Kris took a deep breath and started constructing the mental image the voice had instructed him to build. He was visualizing a clear glass bubble over the campsite – strong glass, an unbreakable alloy. _Use things from your world,_ the voice had instructed, and Kris needed to concentrate, so he didn't allow himself to speculate about the implications of _your world_. He kept one hand on Adam's shoulder as he went further. He imagined he was looking down on the three of them from a great height, only instead of three men huddled around a fire he changed the picture to three horses, browsing peacefully. His painstakingly crafted visual only wavered for a second, when the last of the mysterious men panicked and ran for the forest and the deceptive safety of the trees. It only took a second for Kris to regain hold of the vision and strengthen the shield. Once the screams had died down, just he and Adam were left, and the fire. Kris could feel something pawing at his defences, but he just made them yielding and natural, and worked on making the 'horses' as real as he could. He felt it when the _things_ lost interest and left, but could not let go until the first rays of sunlight were visible over the horizon.

Adam felt Kris's hand loosen its tight grip on his shoulder as the sun started rising agonisingly slowly. So, that's East here, he thought. If the sun rises in the East here at all. Wherever here is. He looked up at Kris, who was starting to sway from exhaustion, and pulled him down to sit beside him near the remains of their fire.

"So, they're gone, are they? Those . . . things?"

"I guess," Kris answered. "I don't think they like the light."

"Kris, where the fuck are we? And don't tell me you don't know anything, because I saw the way you were acting last night."

Kris sighed. "All I know is that I had that dream yesterday . . . "

He trailed off, yawning, until Adam nudged him and glared, expectantly.

"Fine! I dreamt that I was running through this forest while one of those things chased me, and just as it was going to eat me or whatever, I woke up. Happy?"

"No, Kristopher, I'm not happy, because while that dream might have been a symbolic representation of your first encounter with Clive Davis, the fact that we're in the same fucking forest, and have just narrowly survived being eaten by some weird-ass shit, means that we are seriously fucked! And not in a good way."

Adam's rant ended on a defeated note. Yelling at Kris was cathartic, but was not exactly going to solve their problems. Besides, it wasn't Kris's fault, and he'd just saved both their lives-

"Wait a minute! What about the fire, and how those things didn't eat us after that guy ran?"

Kris looked sheepish.

"This is going to sound weird, so hear me out. I just yelled at the fire to light up and it did. Um. Then a voice in my head told me how to distract the creatures."

"A . . . voice."

"In my head."

"Ok. Fine. What are we going to do now?"

"Wait, you're ok with that? You're pissed off about the dream I didn't tell you about, but listening to the voices is ok?"

"Look, I'm sorry I was pissy about the dream. But compared to what happened to us last night even hearing voices isn't half as crazy as what it used to be. And I don't think we can stay here. For one it's seriously _fucking_ cold, and secondly I don't know how long the day is gonna last. I do not want to be here when those things come back."

Kris wanted to stay and argue some more, and ask Adam where he had learned to use a sword like that, but he realised Adam was right. He looked around the campsite, which looked a million times worse in the cold clear light of day. There were piles of bones scattered around, some with swords lying nearby. Adam grabbed the same one he had used against the monsters (a word which his brain was having some difficulty with), and stared at it for a few seconds before turning to Kris.

"Where should we go? Back to where we came through? How did we do that, anyway?"

Adam seemed to have finally accepted that they weren't in L.A. anymore.

"I don't think that's such a good idea. We'd be going deeper into the forest. And that crack, tear thing just vanished." Adam looked sceptically at him, but didn't push the issue.

Kris looked around and saw a path leading out of the clearing in the opposite direction to where they had come from.

"Let's see if we can find some people who can tell us what's going on."

A few hours later, Kris was wishing he could literally eat his words. The walk through the woods had been fine at first, with the exercise warming them both up, and the birds chirping happily in the weak sunlight. It was cold here, but at least the sun was shining. It took them some time to break out of the forest, and they emerged into some cultivated fields, with a dirt road running nearby. Kris noted the lack of asphalt or even tyre tracks– instead, the ruts were very narrow and looked as if they had been made by carts. He couldn't name the crop that was being grown, but what did he know about crops, anyway. That didn't mean they were somewhere . . . else.

Though last night should have been enough to convince him of that. He resolutely pushed away the horrible images which flashed in front of his eyes, and looked at Adam, instead. He was shivering slightly, and wouldn't meet his eyes; Kris didn't know if that was because Adam had remembered that he was still pissed off at him, or if Adam didn't want to show how terrified he was, and panic them both. Adam's hand was white-knuckled on the sword he was still holding. Kris wanted to tell Adam that he was scared too, and that there was nothing to be ashamed of, but this wasn't the right time. They would get out of here, and they'd do all the talking they'd been putting off.

"If there's a field there should be a farmhouse nearby. There'll be people . . ."

He trailed off when he realised that Adam was looking past him, apprehensively.

"Yeah," he said, drawing out the word. "I guess that's where those guys come from. I don't think they look very happy to see us."

Kris turned around and saw the men Adam meant. There were five of them. The clothes they had on looked a bit like what the men in the forest had on, but . . . plainer, somehow. These guys look like they work for a living, he thought. And they were carrying farming equipment. Big, heavy tools. Was that a pitchfork? They were shouting something which did not sound like a friendly greeting, and started to run towards them. He pushed down the impulse to run back into the forest, and something struck him. None of them were carrying swords. What did it mean?

"Adam, drop the sword!"

"What? Why?"

"Look, they think we're criminals or something! Why do think those guys were camped out in the woods last night? They didn't have any hunting stuff with them, so they must have been outlaws or whatever, so drop the sword!"

Adam dropped the sword immediately and held up his hands in what he meant to be an unthreatening gesture. The men were closer now and they didn't look as if this made them any happier.

The group of men surrounded them. One of them, the lead guy, Kris thought, prodded Adam with his pitchfork, something which Kris had always found hilarious in cartoons. Not so funny now, he thought. That guy looks like he wants to gut Adam.

"Who are you? What are you doing here on our lands?"

Kris was surprised that he understood farmer guy better than the men in the forest. The man spoke with a weird accent, but the language was recognisably English.

"We're just lost," Kris said, in what he hoped was a pacifying tone.

They'd decided that Kris would speak for them ("You're short and calm and nonthreatening." "Thanks. I guess."), though Kris wondered how long it would take before Adam decided to put in his two cents' worth. "We want to find our way back home."

"Lost, are ye?" asked one of the other men. "Then why was your friend carrying a sword? We've been raided twice already this season by you and your friends! Where are the rest of your men?"

"We're not outlaws, we're just tour- travelers, and we found the sword in the forest."

It wasn't a lie, as such, but Kris knew that this wasn't going to be enough.

The head farmer calmed the others down, which was good, because they looked as though they wanted to string Kris and Adam up by the nearest tree. Adam was biting his lip again, something which Kris knew he only did when he was annoyed – but in this case, Kris could see the fear in his eyes.

"We will take them to the village, and let the magistrate decide what to do. Maybe he will be able to get the truth out of them."

This last was directed at Kris and Adam, who exchanged looks. Clearly they were meant to understand that 'getting information out of them' was not going to be a painless process. Somehow, Kris felt that they were not in a place with a Geneva convention.

The group of men harried Kris and Adam down the dirt road and finally reached the small village, which reminded Kris of something from the movies. There was a sort of welcoming committee waiting for them which seemed to be made up of the population of the village. Everyone looked well-fed and content enough. No rags or hungry people to be seen, and one man in particular seemed more important than the others.

"Do you think that's the magistrate?" Adam murmured out of the corner of his mouth. "He's wearing velvet, lots of leather and is covered in renaissance bling."

"I think so," Kris tried to answer, but was immediately shoved forward by one of the farmers.

"Be quiet, outlaw scum! You'll have plenty of time to talk when you're in front of the magistrate, before you hang!"

Adam looked worriedly at Kris, though Kris only knew he was worried because his face had become the mask reserved for the most intrusive of interviews.

But they had arrived in the centre of the village, and they were forced to their knees. The word must have already reached the magistrate, because he was directing the setting up of a platform in the village square, and Kris felt himself starting to panic.

"Look, we're _not_ bandits, we're just lost, and we found the sword in the forest!"

The richly dressed man turned to him.

"You are wearing strange clothing and you carry no tools of your trade, which tells me that you have no trade. Your friend was carrying a sword which he tried to conceal, which tells me that he has no honest work. His pallor tells me that he plies his trade at night, when no honest man works. I need ask no further questions when your appearance speaks for itself."

"So, nobody's gonna ask us about the monsters in the forest that fly around at night and melt people, just leaving bones?"

Adam had reached his breaking point – this was like a nightmare. He had survived being killed by some freaking crazy shit out of the movies, just to be hanged by Ren Faire rejects.

At Adam's words, all the adults froze. The children just looked puzzled, but every person above the age of twenty had identical looks of horror on their faces. The magistrate in particular, a heavyset man in his fifties with, Adam now noticed, a purplish scar on his face which looked like an acid burn, had a look of loathing on his face that seemed more directed at Adam and Kris than anything Adam had said.

He strode towards Adam and backhanded him with such force as to snap his head back. One of his rings must have opened Adam's lip because he had to spit blood into the dirt. Kris immediately started struggling against the men who held him down and tried to get to Adam.

"Don't you touch him! What's wrong with you people? He's telling the truth, I saw them too-"

"Silence!" The magistrate's face was purple with rage. Some of the people in the crowd were crying, others were praying openly, while clutching children to them.

"You will be silent or I will have your tongues ripped out before you burn. Dark witches!"

Kris could see that Adam was shaking and trying desperately to get himself under control. This was just a bad dream, right? He was still in L.A., he'd tripped over some rubble and hit his head, and this was all a horrible hallucination.

_No, it isn't. Listen carefully, and repeat what I say to this idiot magistrate._ He's gonna rip my tongue out if I say anything, Kris thought frantically, and, he hoped, loudly, at his mystery friend. _They will burn you as witches if you don't, or hang you as outlaws. Either way, stop yammering and listen. Are you listening?_ Yes, Kris thought, I am. His heart was still hammering but he forced himself to listen calmly in order to repeat what he heard, even though he could hardly believe what he was saying.

"Hearken to my words, Magistrate Geldor! My companion and I are servants of the Wizard Ingold Inglorion, tasked with an important secret quest for knowledge in these farmlands, by special order of the High King Altir. The Archmage is coming, along with the King himself. Foolish would be the man who laid violent hands on the wizard's servants."

Privately, Kris thought, "Hearken"? Really? In fact, Adam was looking at him as if he was insane and foaming at the mouth, though, as always, Adam managed to hide his true feelings well. It was only because Kris knew his friend that he was familiar with Adam's expressions. The rest of the world just saw Adam's perfect 'you are all beneath me' mask. He didn't even bother to try and wipe the blood off his chin, and it was dripping onto the ground. The crowd had gone silent, and the magistrate went pale as the implication of the slow drips was brought home.

He tried bluster instead of fear.

"You lie to save your skins! The Archmage and the King would never come here! What could interest them in this place?"

Kris noticed that some of the villagers made strange secretive hand gestures, or spat, at the mention of the 'Archmage'. A few moments passed and nothing happened. The townspeople visibly relaxed, and were on the point of agreeing with their magistrate, when the sound of a group of horses galloping towards them grew louder, until a group of about twenty people on horseback cantered into the village square.

Adam couldn't really see all of the people who had just ridden up; he was almost past caring, terrified and furious in equal measure. As he saw it, he was kneeling in the fucking dirt, and bleeding in the fucking face, and there were a lot of people in the way, so mostly he saw legs, long skirts, and horses. Lots of horses. But some of the people stood out. One of them was a man in his sixties, Adam thought, with long white hair and a beard – he looked like he should be called Gandalf or something, so he was probably that Ingold guy Kris had spoken about (and Adam was glad Kris had told him about hearing a helpful voice in his head earlier, because he didn't think he'd have been able to spontaneously go along with Kris's speech otherwise).

Ingold was accompanied by thin man in his fifties, with greying long hair in a widow's peak, who grinned at Adam and gave him a thumbs up, and a youngish man with dark blond hair who was wearing rich clothes and a velvet cloak in a purplish dark red. Making up the rest of the party were a group of men and women all wearing black uniforms, with a white symbol on the shoulder of each tunic. It was a strange white symbol, like a four-leafed clover, but without a stem, and all in white. It was fascinating to Adam, though he didn't know why. The _group_ fascinated him. They all had swords, and seemed to be led by a woman with long grey hair and piercing blue-grey eyes, and a man with hair so fair and skin so white he could almost be an albino, except for his eyes, which were the icy blue of a mountain lake. Adam blinked. He must be getting light-headed; soon he'd be writing poetry.

The newcomers dismounted, and the young man in the rich clothing immediately strode towards the magistrate.

"Is this how my servants are treated in these lands?"

"Your Majesty!" the magistrate spluttered, to Adam's surprise. Young king, his mind supplied helpfully. Hot young king, it added, until he shook himself, mentally. Neither the time nor the place, he thought.

"We did not know they were your servants," the magistrate continued, almost grovelling. "They said they were travelers, lost in these lands-"

"And this is how you treat lost travelers? "

"We have been plagued by outlaws for some time, my liege, and we thought these two were among their number. Please forgive our mistake!"

"Leave us. We have important matters of state to discuss. Send people to the Keep to prepare my rooms there, and to inform the Guards what has happened."

The square was still full of people, who looked more worried than ever.

"What has happened, Sire?" The girl who spoke couldn't have been more than fifteen; her mother was shushing her and trying to drag her away, but she stared at the king, a look of calm confidence in her eyes.

The young king exchanged a look with Ingold, who stepped forward to address the crowd.

"People of Renweth, listen to my words . . ."

Kris and Adam found themselves exchanging a simultaneous eye-roll. This guy was a serious drama queen, thought Kris. He tried to follow what Ingold was telling them, something about Dark Ones, and isolated occurrence, but that women and children would be welcome in the Keep, and on and on. The adrenaline which had kept him going so far was wearing off, and he desperately needed some sleep, but he still wasn't sure if they were safe.


	2. Chapter 2

The magistrate scurried off, shooing the villagers away from the square, and headed towards what must have been the local meeting place. He seemed to be grateful to get away from the glaring eyes of Ingold, who had practically skewered him with a look.

The king suddenly winked at the man who had grinned at Adam. "What d'you think, Rudy?"

"Well, I know I've been here for twenty-five years, but I think I still recognize jeans when I see them, though I don't recall guys wearing nail-polish and eyeliner when I left-"

"Oh my God," Adam burst out. Rudy's accent was exactly like his, and Adam thought he had never been happier to hear a California accent.

"You're American! Oh thank you!" He covered his face with his hands, finally breaking down and letting everything out.

Kris tried to hold it together for a little longer and patted Adam on the shoulder, reassuringly.

"Can we get up? My knees are killing me."

The blond man who had been watching both of them like a hawk suddenly zeroed in on Kris.

"You do not speak like your friend."

"I'm from a different area of the country," answered Kris, after looking at Rudy for reassurance. Rudy nodded, so he continued. "It's called Arkansas. Adam is from California, like Rudy?"

"And me," said the woman who seemed to be leading the Guards.

"We had best save introductions for later," interrupted Ingold. "These men have information which we need to know now."

"They also need food, water, and medical care," the woman noted mildly.

"Of course, my dear," Ingold answered, in a much gentler tone than he had used before. He strode towards Adam and put a hand on his head. Adam wanted to pull away, but Rudy reassured him.

"He knows what he's doing, don't worry."

Ingold, closed his eyes and muttered a few words under his breath. Immediately, Adam's lip and the wound in his scalp stopped throbbing, and he knew that they were both healed.

"Now, can we go to where you encountered the Dark Ones?"

Everyone fell silent, and exchanged mysterious looks. Kris, on the other hand, was starting to get angry.

"Now wait just a minute. We're not going anywhere until you tell us where we are, who you are, and what exactly is going on." As always when he was angry or upset, his accent thickened considerably, and he could see that Rudy and the woman Guard were on the verge of not taking him seriously for it. Well, they would see, he thought mulishly. He wasn't moving, until he and Adam got some answers. They had almost died there, surely they were entitled to some sort of explanation. _Well, once you show us the campsite, you'll get one, but we're running out of time now._ He realised that it was Ingold's voice and he glared at the wizard.

"If you want to tell me anything, use your mouth! Keep out of my head!"

Rudy raised his eyebrows at that, and seemed to decide that a conciliatory attitude was the best tack.

"You already know Ingold and King Altir. My name is Rudy Solis and I came here from California about twenty-five years ago, more or less. This is Gil Patterson, PhD." He said this with a grin, while Gil rolled her eyes. Then he pointed at the blond and said: "And he's known as the Icefalcon. He and Gil are Guards, and Ingold and I are wizards. Enough exposition for ya? We really have to see that campsite before it gets dark."

Adam shuddered at this, and nodded at Kris. "Let's go there now, ok? The sooner we show them the sooner they can send us back. You can do that, right? Being _wizards_ and all?"

He turned away and so he missed the look the two wizards and Gil exchanged, but Kris didn't. He doubted it was going to be that easy.

Stable hands from the inn got them fresh horses, and they rode towards the forest. Adam was grateful that he had taken some riding lessons the last time he went on holiday, otherwise he would have been in agony by the time they arrived. The path was wide enough for two people to ride abreast, and he tried to start a conversation with Gil.

"So, what did you guys do, back home?"

"I was a medieval scholar, _working_ on my PhD at UCLA. Rudy was a mechanic."

"So, he's a wizard now, and you're a . . . cop? With a sword? How'd that happen?"

A look from her pale blue eyes told him he had gone over the line, so he stopped talking. They had arrived, anyway, and Kris was already explaining what happened last night. Adam looked around him. The scene looked even worse during the day, though he hadn't believed that was possible. In the harsh light of day he could see the piles of bones with rags stuck to them; they looked half melted, and Adam's stomach churned whenever he thought that those had been human beings, with hopes and dreams, reduced to a pile of bones, soon to be buried in a mass grave.

"So there were these guys, with swords, but they were losing, and Adam grabbed one of the swords and killed two of the . . . things, and- hey, you never told me how you knew to do that?"

Adam shrugged. He didn't really want to think about that; he wasn't sure what happened last night, but he went for an explanation which might keep Kris happy for a while.

"High school. We did a Shakespeare play. I took some fencing lessons."

"Huh. How about that. Well, anyway, the rest you know. Look, how did we get here? How did _you_ get here?" he asked, looking at Rudy and Gil. "I mean, we were driving around L.A. when an earthquake started, and we fell through a kind of rip in the air, or whatever. We just want to go home."

Adam nodded vigorously, but with a sinking heart. The expression on the wizards' faces was not reassuring, and Gil almost looked like she felt sorry for them.

Ingold spoke to them in a gentle tone, which was in itself a signal that they were oh so very fucked, thought Adam bitterly.

"We cannot send you back today."

Kris thought he was going to explode with rage, and maybe he was projecting it because he noticed that Rudy winced.

"Why?" The word burst from his lips and the others, who had been examining the remains of the bandits, fell silent. "We've got nothing to do with this. We don't _fit_ here. Just send us back. Please?"

The rage had drained out of Kris almost as quickly it came. Adam was sitting on the ground, looking dejected. Usually _he_ was the one who wanted to do all the talking, Kris thought. But Adam had already accepted the inevitable, it seemed.

"If you are telling the truth," Ingold continued, "and I do believe you, then those creatures which you have seen are the same ones that brought down an entire civilisation twenty-five years ago, and which we thought were gone forever. What do you think will happen if they follow you through to your world?"

"We'll get the biggest guns money can buy and we'll shoot the hell out of them!" Kris wasn't ready to give up, and glared at Adam, who was still refusing to look at him.

"And when they kept coming? The Dark breed quickly. What one knows, all of them know. Your authorities would never believe you. They would take your . . . 'guns' from you, and secure you in a place for the mentally ill. And then, the Dark would come."

"Ok! Ok. Enough." Adam got up, and wiped his eyes. "We'll stay. But not forever. Promise me!" He turned to Rudy. "Promise me it's not forever."

"No, of course not! We'll get you home, don't worry." Kris noticed that Rudy didn't specify how long that would take.

They rode back in contemplative silence. At one point Kris remembered something.

"The Shakespeare thing, I thought you were Bottom?"

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Bottom? The Weaver? From _A Midsummer Night's Dream_? Who wouldn't need to fence, is my point?"

"Oh, that. The Dream isn't the only Shakespeare play I was in. We did _Romeo and Juliet_ one year . . . "

"And you were? Romeo? Juliet?" Kris racked his brains to remember any other characters. "The guy who was in Lost?"

Adam laughed for the first time since they got to this place.

"Mercutio, you mean! No, I wish. Capulet No. 3, that was me. But we had an awesome sword-fight, the foils were lighter than that sword, though . . ."

Adam trailed off, smiling. Kris could see he was lost in happier times, and let him stay in his memories for a while. He didn't really believe it was as simple as that, and he didn't think Adam believed it, either, but he let it pass for the moment.

They reached the place King Altir had called the Keep about half an hour before nightfall. In the fading light, all Adam could make out of the place was a huge monstrous block of black stone, nothing like the simple houses they'd seen in the village. As soon as the last ray of light faded over the horizon, the double doors of the Keep were shut. The ominous sound of heavy doors banging made Adam shudder. We're in prison, he thought. Great. Just great.

Ingold had gone to scry (whatever that meant, Adam didn't particularly care) and warn the other wizards and witches all over the country that they should be prepared for all eventualities – he seemed worried that they wouldn't be believed. Judging by his own experiences that day, Adam was inclined to share this fear. They were all, except Ingold, sitting in a room attached to the King's bedchamber. There was a roaring fire, and they'd been given food and wine.

"I don't think we ever asked your names," the king asked pleasantly. Now that they were sitting down somewhere warm, with food and drink, Adam could really look at these people. He noticed that the king was wearing a kind of black velvet tunic over his shirt, embroidered in gold with the design of an eagle under a crown. He guessed that's what showed who he was, in case no-one knew what he looked like. Adam didn't know if they even had newspapers over here; he was trying to remember if he knew _anything_ about this kind of time period at home. He half wished Neil was there – he probably had written a million papers about this kind of thing. And he'd actually watched _all_ the Lord of the Rings movies. The extended versions, even. Then he remembered the monsters and, shuddering, was glad Neil was safe, at home. He brought himself back to the present with an effort, realizing that the king was still waiting for his answer. The _king_, wow. He was having dinner with an actual king. Adam had seen tv shows featuring the Queen of England, and she seemed much more stiff than this affable young man. I guess this is what it's like when royalty actually do stuff, rather than sit in cars and wave, Adam thought.

"Well, my name is Adam," Adam answered. "I'm a- I act, in the theatre. Plays, with songs in them."

"Ah," the King said. "You must sing for us some time!" Adam knew that when the King asked for something, that was kind of an order, so he nodded and smiled, and looked at Kris, expectantly.

"I'm Kris, and I'm a student." Kris decided to follow Adam's lead – he probably had a good reason for not telling the whole truth.

"Like Gil-shalos then," the King continued enthusiastically. Kris looked puzzled until Gil said, "It's a name the Icefalcon came up with. They like it better than Patterson."

"Oh, ok." Kris said. "Yes, except I was studying economics, um, money and trade, and stuff?" He wasn't sure what kind of economy these people had, but the King was nodding, while the Icefalcon sneered.

Gil grinned at the Icefalcon.

"Our friend doesn't believe in money; he thinks it makes civilisations weak!"

Huh, thought Kris, so this Icefalcon guy is a foreigner – he seems weird enough.

Adam seemed to be bursting to ask something so Kris just let him speak.

"Could someone just please tell us what's the deal with these Dark Ones everyone's afraid of? I mean, in the village the Magistrate about took my head off for just mentioning them."

"It is a long and complicated tale," Ingold thundered as he swept into the room. The guy sure did like to make an entrance, Kris thought uncharitably, and then froze when Ingold looked at him and winked. And stop reading my mind, he projected as loudly as he could. _I would, child, if you did not shout your thoughts at me so stridently._

"Actually," Gil said, "It isn't. There are parallel dimensions, worlds side by side. In this world, creatures which we have called the Dark Ones, and which existed before the advent of humanity, rose out of caves in the earth every three thousand years to devastate civilisations. Twenty-five years ago, we thought they had all passed through the Void between dimensions, never to return. Apparently, we were wrong."

"Very well summed up, my love!"

Ingold was doing the twinkly old man bit again, Kris thought- oh. He and Gil were together. No wonder she had stayed here, once she had found love.

Adam looked misty-eyed too. Probably missing boyfriend number 25, Kris thought, and then pulled himself up short. He must really be tired, if his brain kept offering up this stuff.

"Could you just tell us what you did at the campsite, Kris?" Gil was asking him, probably reading the tension on his face.

"I needed more fire so I kinda told it to get stronger. And it did. Then Ingold started talking to me, in my head, and showed me how to create a, a shielding spell? Or cloaking? I guess. How come I can do that stuff?" Kris was puzzled. He'd done magic at the campsite? Him? He could still hardly believe it.

Rudy answered him. "I didn't know how to do magic before I came here, but something in this world kind of brought it out of me, I think. Gil here was a bookmarm and look at her now!"

"Yes, about that," Gil said, "Adam, you seemed to be-"

"Oh, no," Adam interrupted. "No way. That was just a fluke. I waved the sword around a bit and hit them by accident. No way am I going to join your little army of cops, no offence, your Majesty. I'm a non-violent person, and I'd like to stay that way. And I'm not going back home covered in sword-cuts."

Kris felt a sudden deep wave of love for Adam. He just managed to keep hold of himself, of who he was, no matter what was happening around him. Though he was pretty sure Adam was meant to use his sword in this world, just as he was meant to use magic. What Adam had done, that was no fluke, especially considering that men who had actually been trained in real sword-fighting had died while Adam survived. The king exchanged looks with Gil and the Icefalcon, but said nothing more.

Kris yawned, unable to stop himself. Rudy immediately offered to show them to the room which had been prepared for them. Kris got up, feeling incredibly stiff, and hoped the room wasn't that far away.

On the way there, they noticed that a large number of villagers had taken advantage of the offer to spend the night in the Keep. Kris didn't blame them. From the outside, the Keep was a huge strangely shaped block of black stone which almost looked like glass. He couldn't even imagine how such a thing had been built, and to him it looked like an enormous black tetris piece that had been dropped on the plain – it had nothing in common with the wood and plaster houses of the village. It was impossible to imagine anything breaking through the thick walls and heavy doors. As they passed, they attracted a few puzzled glances, but nothing openly hostile. Kris hoped this wouldn't change, but he wondered what would happen if it ever got out that these . . . things had followed them back to the civilisation they had practically wiped out twenty-five years ago. He hadn't been fooled by Ingold's deflection, and, he suspected, neither had Adam. These Dark Ones, whatever they were, had been gone, for good.

Kris entered the room they'd been given to share. On the inside the place was a huge labyrinth of differently sized rooms on different floors, some of which had been obviously split up to increase living space. As the keep was almost empty, they'd been given a big room near the entrance, which in a more crowded time would have been a luxury.

Adam sat down on one of the sides of the huge bed in one corner, opposite a fireplace. He was staring at his hands, the nails chipped from the swordfight. Rudy cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry about the bed; that there's . . . only one. We needed the other rooms with pallets for the guards, and the villagers . . . "

"That's ok," Adam reassured him quickly, looking at him with an easy grin. "The bed is enormous – we have more than enough space."

After Rudy left, Adam started taking off his jacket, throwing it over one of the two chairs in the room. He pulled off his heavy rings and started unbuttoning his shirt, then suddenly touched his ear, and started swearing.

"What? What is it?" Kris looked on as Adam just covered his face with one hand, and then used it to rub his eyes roughly.

"It's nothing, really. I'm just so fucking tired, everything is such an effort." He sighed, and continued. "I'm stuck in Ye Olde Medieval Land and I usually take out my plugs when I go to bed. I don't know what to put them in."

"You usually put them in alcohol or something? Could you use salt water instead?" Kris racked his brains for memories of Adam's old pre-bed routine.

"Yeah, I guess. I'll go and ask that Rudy guy, he seems practical enough. Good thing I didn't pierce my cock, right?"

Kris must have looked horrified, because Adam burst into giggles. Kris smiled too, glad something could cheer Adam up after the day they'd had.

"I was kidding! I wouldn't do that!" Still laughing, Adam left the room, and Kris decided to take the opportunity to strip down to his underwear and get into bed. He wasn't sure how he'd react if Adam got naked in front of him. He wanted Adam more than ever, and he still had to explain why he had frozen Adam out for six months. Their current ease with each other was just a reaction to the crazy events they'd been through together, and he was sure Adam still wanted an explanation for his behaviour. He just wasn't sure he had one.

Just as he got the blanket over him, Adam walked through the doorway, carrying a cup made of some greyish metal, and a clear bottle with a cork in it.

"Now you can't drink any of this in the morning! Turns out they know all about saline and have some of it on stock. Well, kind of. At least I know that they boiled the water before adding salt."

Kris watched as Adam took out the heavy gauges and dropped them in the cup. He sighed, and took off his shirt. Kris turned away quickly, and started talking to cover his embarrassment, which his brain was persistent in calling arousal.

"So, you're not gonna leave them out while we're here? Won't it be a hassle for you?"

Adam yawned and stretched. He was down to his briefs now; Kris had chanced a quick glance and then squeezed his eyes shut. Even after the day he'd had, Adam looked good enough to make a tingling start up in his groin. He clenched his fist in the blanket and ignored it. Adam got in the other side of the bed and yawned again, wider this time.

"I don't think the holes would close very neatly, the size they are. If I have to go without proper cleansing and moisturizing," and Kris could hear the unspoken horror in Adam's voice here, "at least my ears will look good." Kris looked at him again, glad that he could only see Adam's face and neck.

Adam's eyes were drifting shut, when Kris remembered something.

"Why didn't we tell them everything about us? What's with the whole musical theatre thing?"

"What was I supposed to say? We competed in a musical reality show? Gil and Rudy left in 1985 or thereabouts, they didn't even _have_ reality tv then. Also, I kinda feel they'd have more respect for people who actually work for a living than instant celebrities. And _yes_, I know that we work. But do you think it's a type of work that these people would respect, or even acknowledge?"

Kris was forced to agree. "You're right, as usual. Wow, that's a long speech for someone who was completely exhausted a few minutes ago . . . Adam?" A soft snore was his only answer. This time you're the one who falls asleep in the middle of a conversation, he thought fondly. He pulled the blanket they had been given over Adam's shoulders, and stroked his hair for a few moments, before pulling his hand back with a jerk. What the hell was he doing now? He needed some sleep.

Kris woke up after what seemed like five minutes. There was no fuzzy 'where am I' moment, nothing like that. He knew immediately where he was and what had happened to them. The knowledge did nothing to console him. But what had woken him up? He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at the fire, which was down to a few glowing coals. And then the sound came again, the one which had shocked him out of a dreamless sleep.

It was a hollow booming, like thunder, except they were in the middle of a huge building with really thick walls – no way would the sound of thunder penetrate. Sitting up, he realised that Adam had also been woken up by the sound, but when he looked closer, he saw that Adam was staring straight ahead, more pissed off than terrified.

"There was one second when I thought this was all some horrible nightmare. One beautiful, blissful second. I don't know what that sound is, but I'm fucking scared, Kris."

Kris reached over and grabbed Adam's hand, squeezing it.

"We don't need to go and see what's going on. We'd just be in the way," Kris added hopefully. He didn't really mean it, though. He knew that they could hardly hide in bed while other people dealt with the problem they had, even unknowingly, brought to their doorstep. Even though we didn't exactly do it on purpose, he thought with some resentment. As he met Adam's eyes, he saw the same feelings mirrored there. With a sigh, he levered his protesting body out of the warm bed and yelped as his feet met the icy cold floor. He pulled his jeans back on and grabbed his jacket, sliding his feet into his shoes, not bothering with socks.

Adam hadn't bothered getting fully dressed either, he saw – he had pulled his pants on, swung a cloak he'd been given around his shoulders, and grabbed something they told him was called a 'glowstone'. Kris didn't know how it kept alight and didn't really care. He suspected that most of his questions about how things worked in this place would be answered with 'by magic', and he didn't care to know that, at all. He wanted to leave there as soon as possible, and the less he knew about the place, the better. He suspected . . . no, he was _sure_ Adam felt the same way.

All these thoughts passed through his mind as they walked hurriedly along the corridor to the main aisle of the Keep, the great hall which was criss-crossed with channels of dark water, ever-flowing, and higher-up, stone bridges connecting the levels of the building. The sound, they realised, came from the double doors of the entrance – the booming had continued as they hurried along, and now they saw that there was a crowd around the inner door. As they walked up they could just catch what seemed like the tail end of a conversation.

" . . . you know, déjà vu is _seriously_ overrated."

Rudy was speaking to Ingold, who was listening very intently at the inner door, though what he thought he could hear over the booming, Kris had no idea. Ingold gave Rudy an exasperated look, and beckoned impatiently. Rudy sighed, and, flattening his palms against the door, closing his eyes, and seemed to concentrate hard. Kris could see his lips moving, but couldn't hear any words. Ingold joined him, and, after a few more booms so loud that Kris practically felt his teeth vibrate, the noise stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

There was a group of Guards around the door, all of them fully dressed, and had probably been patrolling when the racket started. Gil was with them, and she asked the wizards whether they needed to 'spell' the outer door, whatever that meant, and Rudy was just about to answer when he spotted Kris and Adam over her shoulder. He raised his eyebrows and Gil nodded, turning around and looking at Ingold out of the corner of her eye.

Adam could feel his blood starting to boil. He had to take a couple of deep breaths to stop from losing his temper. They were going to be fobbed off with half-truths again, and he felt he was owed something more. What was out there? Was it more of those monsters? He'd only caught a few glimpses at the campsite – the impression he was left with was of changeable size, incredible speed, and a huge slobbery mouth, lined with tentacles which dripped acid. He'd mourned his once-beautiful jacket, now pitted with holes from his encounter, and all the while he knew that he was just trying to deflect the horror and disgust he felt every time he thought of the things. He still didn't want to look closely at the fact that he'd actually killed a couple (with a fucking sword, what was that all about?), and what that said about his prospects for however long he'd have to stay there.

He was definitely not going to think about Kris, and the sidelong glances he'd been giving whenever he thought Adam wasn't looking. Being in such close quarters, fighting for his life alongside him, all of this was awakening feelings in him he'd thought were gone, or had never even existed. He was being reminded of Kris's smile, of his generally affable nature (of his great ass and amazing chest). It was like he was crushing on Kris all over again, and that made him furious, he'd thought he was _over_ that. At the campsite he'd even said he'd always trust Kris, and he had no idea why. Except you were fighting for your life, his mind reminded him.

He shook his head, determined not to be distracted by his thoughts, and glared at Ingold, Rudy and Gil. He'd been told he had a good glare, very expressive eyes, so he was going to put that to work. Not that Ingold and Gil were slackers on the glaring front. Rudy seemed to have appointed himself as peacemaker, and put himself between the two groups.

"Guys . . . everyone . . . _listen._" They all listened intently. The silence was only broken by water dripping in some distant pool. "They've gone, for now." He turned to Adam and Kris. "We'll explain everything in the morning, really we will. You'll learn more than you ever wanted to about this situation. But for now, we all need to get some sleep – there's a few hours left till dawn, and we'll all need our rest in the morning."

One of the other guards, the frost-pale man they'd called the Icefalcon, seemed reluctant to leave, staring at the inner door.

"Are you certain the Dark Ones have gone?"

Ingold nodded. "I cannot feel their presence any longer. And they are not great in numbers as they once were-" He broke off at a look from Gil, and tried to smile reassuringly at Adam and Kris.

"Everything will be made clear in the morning, I promise you. And now, let us all go back to bed."

Before he knew it, Adam was back in bed, with the sneaking suspicion that Ingold had worked some mojo on him; he hadn't argued anymore, and barely remembered the walk back to their room. With a last sleepy thought about how his parents and brother would've appreciated a power like that when he was a teenager, he dropped off.

"So, you're saying . . . you never actually wiped them out? They just went _somewhere else_?"

Adam knew his voice was probably making dogs miles away whine and cover their ears, but he just couldn't help it. It _was_ the next morning, but _nothing_ was clear. He snuck a look at Kris, who was looking as angry as he ever got – that is, he looked faintly pained. Adam had to fight back a smile which threatened to take the sting out of his rage. Good old Kris, who never got really angry – the outburst yesterday was as obvious as his anger ever got. He'd better take Kris's example, if he wanted not to make everyone here hate him. He usually never had any problems with getting people to like him, but this place was just . . .

He squeezed his eyes shut, and took a deep breath. He'd woken up in this fucking place, cold and hungry, had to share some kind of communal washroom with what seemed like a whole garrison, and there hadn't been any coffee. Scratch that, there hadn't been any caffeinated products of any description, and Adam could feel the caffeine headache creeping up to supplement the tension headache that he'd woken up with. Still, no point in antagonising the only people who could help them get home. And it's not like anyone else was responsible for the fact that he just _had_ to step backwards into a rip in space and time, or whatever. No, not time, he corrected himself. Just dimensions or something. Maybe he should have actually watched that weird series while he was in the UK, what was it called, Doctor What? Or Who? Whatever.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so . . . "

His words trailed away, but Rudy just smiled at him in sympathy.

"It's ok, man. The first few days without coffee are a bitch. You get used to it later."

_Later?_ The horror must have shown on his face, because Gil gave Rudy an exasperated look. And yes, usually he was good at hiding his emotions under a carefully cultivated mask, but this was different. This was _coffee_.

They were all sitting round a large table in one of the rooms on the other side of the aisle; except for the King, who had left for the capital at dawn, they'd been told. Adam couldn't remember the name, and didn't care. He didn't want to start feeling at home over here. Breakfast had consisted of some coarse bread, cheese, and eggs. He'd eaten everything that was put in front of him – to hell with his diet. Kris hadn't said much in the morning; he just kept giving Adam worried looks, as if _he_ was any more equipped to deal with this weird primitive world than Adam. Well, he'd show Kris. He wasn't some high-maintenance diva who needed to be protected and coddled.

Ingold took over, evidently thinking that they needed to hear the entire problem in one go, rather than having pieces doled out sparingly.

"We've already told you that about twenty-five years ago, the Dark Ones, who had been living in massive cities under the ground for three thousand years, rose up in all nations at once, and destroyed our civilisation. They came close to wiping out all of humankind, too. Very close." He paused at this point, evidently lost in those memories. "Through my fault, they learnt of the Void between dimensions, and-" (here Gil put a hand on his arm, as if to disagree; he just patted it and smiled at her) "for a long time, I believed they wanted to cross over to your world, to feed on the billions of unsuspecting humans there. That was not the case, as I found out, to my cost."

He grimaced, as if remembering some distant agony, and Adam shuddered at the thought of anyone being in those things' power. He could barely breathe as he waited for the next part of the story. But wait a minute, if they weren't interested in their earth, why were he and Kris stuck here? He opened his mouth to voice his objections, but Ingold was quicker than him.

"The Dark Ones I dealt with those many years ago were the epitome of their species – they were the ones who had survived many battles with human beings, a perfect collective consciousness, with no dissent, no betrayal . . ."

His voice became dreamy; Ingold almost sounded as though he admired them. Gil tightened her hand on his arm, and he came back to the present.

"The creatures you fought with on your arrival in this world, and who tried so desperately to get into the Keep last night, are a few remnants, cut off from the collective, who have spent a quarter-century trapped in the empty void between the dimensions. They reduced themselves to a near-comatose existence to survive without food, and when you passed through the Void, they followed you . . . here. They must have felt you two passing through, but their great hunger drew them towards the larger group of outlaws in the woods. Then, when you joined them, well . . ."

He shrugged, as if to say that maybe if Adam and Kris hadn't shown themselves, the monsters wouldn't be so obsessed with finding their world. Adam couldn't bring himself to regret it, though. He wasn't the kind of person who could just stand by and do nothing when he heard screaming, and neither was Kris.

"Years ago, the Dark Ones were not interested in your world, which was far too chilly for them – I sent them to a warm place, much like the Earth must have been many millions of years ago. But these creatures have been driven mad by their isolation, and see in your home a place where they can hunt and feed with impunity. Oh, and breed, of course. They will breed."

His last words caused a strange reaction around the table. Rudy went pale and looked like he wanted to throw up. The others just looked pained, as if reminded of something that they had all desperately tried to forget. Kris looked from one face to the other, wondering what the big deal was. All animals had to breed, even strange monstrous creatures which ate people.

"Ok, I'll bite. What's the big deal with their, um, breeding?"

Rudy looked even paler, if that was possible, but no-one else seemed to want to speak. He shook his head, and looked like he was reaching for the right words.

"A few years before coming here, I watched a movie called _Alien_. You ever see that movie?"

Now Kris wanted to throw up too, and wished he'd never asked. Adam had gone white, and his freckles stood out in his ashen face. Kris wondered if it would be in bad taste to wish for Ripley and fifty space marines with grenade launchers and flame-throwers. Not that it had done any of _them_ any good in the end. And Gil _did_ look a lot like Ripley, from certain angles, so maybe they were covered there. He wondered what effect a grenade would have on a Dark One – it would blow up _good_, he felt. He pulled himself back to the present, unfortunately lacking in semi-automatic, or even automatic weapons. He tried to remember what they had been talking about with the King, last night.

"Did you find out if they attacked somewhere else?" Are more people dead because of us, was what he really wanted to ask, but he didn't trust himself to get the words out. Gil looked like she understood what was on his mind, and was quick to reassure him.

"No! Kris, Adam, no-one else was killed last night. It looks like they followed your trail from the campsite and didn't bother with any other prey. They're only interested in you, and learning from you and Ingold how to cross the Void to reach your home."

As this was essentially a rephrasing of _and they absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead_, Kris felt even less reassured than before, and wished he could stop asking questions to which he clearly didn't want to know the answers. And what it is with the movie references today, he thought. Must be a defence mechanism of some kind – to stop from going insane, he was trying to deal with all this fantastic shit like he was in a movie. Every now and again, he had to do something to remind himself that this was real, that they could really die here. He was gripping the scarred wooden table so tight his fingers hurt, and when he looked at Adam, he saw the same disconnect, the same shock in his eyes. Then Adam broke eye contact, shook his head, and got up.

Adam had heard enough. Nothing much had been decided or settled during breakfast. No-one seemed willing or able to give them a specific time span, and Ingold explained that before they knew how many Dark Ones had actually followed them to the Keep, all they could do was wait. Adam understood that they couldn't risk allowing even one of those things to follow them back home. But he already desperately missed everything associated with home, and couldn't stop himself from wondering what was happening there. Did people know they were missing? What about his parents? He felt a longing so deep to talk to his mom that it was actually a physical pain. He got up abruptly. Kris made as if to reach out to him but Adam shook his head.

"I just need some air. I need to get out. Just. We'll speak later." He turned and walked out, almost blindly, still managing to catch a glimpse of Kris's face. He looked hurt, but Adam couldn't deal with that right now. He was on the verge of tears himself, and needed some time to pull himself together.

The double doors of the Keep were open, and it was another beautiful sunny day. It was colder than California, definitely, but the air was crisp and refreshing, after hours spent in the windowless confines of the Keep. He walked down the stairs and decided to go for a walk to try to get to know this place better. For all he knew, he'd be stuck here for a long time.

He'd found out during breakfast that there was an actual garrison stationed in the Keep; though that was nothing compared to the thousands of people housed there immediately following the destruction twenty-five years ago. After a decade had passed with no signs of hidden Nests or of stragglers, the people of Darwath had started re-colonising the devastated countryside, the torn-up towns. The cities had not been reclaimed as yet, though apparently that was a task which was to be started this summer. No-one had wanted to tell them why the city of Gae, for example, formerly the capital, had been abandoned for so long. They just changed the subject when asked. Adam rolled his eyes and tried to stop thinking about it. He wasn't going to get involved. That was the plan. So stick to it, Adam. He said he was going for a walk, so walk he would.

As he was strolling along, determined to get as far around the Keep as he could, he stumbled over the training ground. Pairs of Guards, both men and women, were sparring, using wooden training blades which looked like they would raise impressive bruises. Watching them, Adam was fascinated. Their movements looked so smooth and flowing, it was almost like a dance. Until their trainer got pissed off with what he called their pussyfooting around, and grabbed one of the practice swords to really give them a fight.

"This isn't the autumn dance! Lay into him!"

Some of the Guards watching on the sidelines grinned, and it sounded like they were betting on who would win. Adam was remembering how it felt to hold the sword, to cut through the creature which folded away like paper, the buzzing of the blood in his ears. He knew it was all adrenaline, but it had felt so good.

"Are you interested in showing us what you can do?"

Adam jumped. It was the light voice of the Icefalcon, who had managed to appear by his side, noiselessly. Adam looked at the man, and it registered for the first time how foreign he looked among these dark-haired men and women. Still, his Guard's uniform meant that he belonged – all of them wore the black tunic with a quatrefoil emblem, which meant that they were in the Royal Guard. From what Adam had gathered, they functioned both as protection to the royal family, as well as a kind of police force. Adam pulled together his scattered thoughts; the Icefalcon must think he was doped up or something.

"I don't know how I did what I . . . did." Wow, eloquent, Adam. He tried again. "One of those outlaw guys just gave me the sword and I knew how to use it. Though I don't know what would have happened if Kris hadn't suddenly started doing that magic sh- . . . um, stuff."

Adam realised that the pair who were sparring had stopped, and Gnift, the trainer, was walking towards them. Gnift held out the practice sword to him, and, almost reluctantly, Adam found himself sliding his hand around the hilt. He gripped it, and it felt natural, like he'd been doing this forever.

"Come." Gnift walked back to the practice area, and picked up a sword of his own.

"This is how we learn. You thrust, duck and parry. Do as I do."

It felt like they were doing Tai Chi, or some kind of _kata_. Slow sweeping movements with the wooden swords, which eventually speeded up until Adam was really working up a sweat and wishing he was fitter.

"Now, we fight each other. I must warn you, these swords don't cut, but they raise one hell of a bruise."

Adam shrugged. He was still feeling entranced by the rhythm he'd got into, and didn't care about a few bruises. Besides singing, there were few things he had found himself skilled at almost immediately, and this was bizarre enough to hold his attention.

Gnift turned to face him, and immediately attacked. Adam found himself being driven backwards as he parried the lunges of this master swordsman.

"Attack!" he heard a small hard-eyed woman yell from the sidelines. "I bet a bottle of apple brandy that he won't have you on your arse in one minute."

Adam took courage from this fact (apple brandy? I am _so_ on that) and turned a block into a parry. Feeling very daring, he elbowed Gnift in the face, managing to push him back a few steps. Instead of being annoyed at him, the other Guards were cheering him on and trying to get in on the woman Guard's action. He managed to parry a few more of Gnift's attacks, and even get in a couple of his own, until Gnift took advantage of a moment of distraction to sweep his feet from under him and dump him on his ass.

Adam burst out laughing, amazed that he'd actually enjoyed the bout. From the woman's happy grin, he assumed that he'd lasted longer than a minute. He was starting to feel the bruises, but realized that they didn't bother him; it was so liberating to _do_ something, finally. Gnift stretched out a hand and pulled him up, then he nodded to another Guard who was holding a bundle of clothes, which he handed to Adam.

Adam looked through them. There was a shirt and trousers in some dark brown fabric, a black tunic with a white quatrefoil on the shoulder, and a kind of sleeveless coat, also in black. There was a belt, too. Scratch that, a sword-belt. Adam looked up at the others, his mouth already opening to turn them down, but Gnift gestured to him to wait.

"Hear me out, please. You don't know how long you'll be staying here, and the Dark are after you. Don't you want to know how to defend yourself? Unless you too are a wizard, like your friend?"

Adam was forced to shake his head at that – he'd felt nothing when Kris had been communicating with Ingold, both times. He was as unmagical as it got, over here.

"Then why not learn how to fight? And one thing we do know, about the Dark Ones: they have no ability to see into a man's mind, unless the man wants to speak with them. So they will be looking for people dressed strangely, not a man in the uniform of the Royal Guard."

Adam smiled, recognising the hard sell for what it was. But the man had a point.

"Hiding in plain sight, huh? Maybe, yes. But . . . I can't kill . . . people. I can't do that. I could never . . . "

Adam shook his head. The rage and fear had carried him through when he was fighting those things. He had been full of revulsion at their disgustingly alien presence; but he couldn't imagine harming another human being.

"We would never ask you to do more than you feel you are capable of." This time it was the Icefalcon's cool voice which continued the persuasion. "But you will train with us, and patrol with us, and we will fight the Dark together. Yes?"

Adam clutched at the bundle in his arms. He didn't know why, but he wanted this so intensely. In this place, this horribly dangerous and terrifying place, he had something that set him apart, and he wanted it. He could still feel the adrenaline buzz of the fight, and the feeling of losing himself in the rhythm.

"Yes," he said. "Yes. I don't know why, but." He shook his head, unable to say more. The woman Guard let out a whoop and slapped him on the back, hard, while waving a large bottle with the other hand.

"I am Melantrys, and you, my foreign friend, deserve to share this bottle of brandy with me. " Adam grinned at her – this didn't seem like a come-on, at all, and in fact, a couple of the other guards trooped over to join them, insisting on a share of the winnings. Adam looked back at Gnift as he was dragged away, wondering if he would be forbidden from drinking, but Gnift just shook his head and grinned.

"Not too much brandy, Adam! You have patrol in one hour."

And that was that, Adam thought. Wow. I have a job. Another thought nagged at his mind, all through the drinking session and the huge lunch that he had with the other Guards. How am I going to explain this to Kris?


	3. Chapter 3

Kris sat at the table, staring at his hands. So now what? Adam needed some time alone, he got that. But what was he supposed to do in the meantime? He winced at that thought, glad he hadn't voiced it aloud – in his head he sounded whiny enough. But he needed some help too, to cope with all this . . . this _insanity_. He knew who he should be asking for help, and was trying to stop wondering if God knew about this place, and if he could hear Kris's prayers across dimensions. He was sure that was blasphemy of some kind, and tried to stop himself from thinking it. Of course God could hear him. And he wished he could find it in himself to pray. He'd tried last night, before he dropped off, but his mind had been buzzing madly, what with the day they'd had, and Adam's closeness, and . . .

He had to stop making excuses. He put his head in his hands and let his thoughts drift. Prayer had always been like a conversation for him, and as he calmed down, he found himself actually managing to talk to God. He listened for the still, small voice, and it was there, telling him that he was loved, that he was not alone.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Rudy, who was smiling down at him.

"Hey. Why don't we see what you can do while you're stuck here? And get you some warmer clothes – jeans and a t-shirt are not nearly enough!"

Half an hour later, he was walking with Rudy through some of the third floor corridors of the keep – the place was enormous, and every time he thought it couldn't surprise him anymore, it added a new shock. Like the humming and slight vibration he sensed in the walls when he touched them, which Rudy had told him was ancient machinery fuelled by magic.

Magic! He still couldn't believe it was possible, that he, plain Kris Allen from Arkansas, could actually do magic, that such a thing was even possible. He could still remember what it felt like when he made the fire rear up, and when he made the Dark think they weren't there: the feeling of being drained, of being hollowed out, but at the same time, energized. It was like when a song was going well, when he was on a composing roll, when the notes just seemed to flow and the words came without an effort. He scratched his neck absently where the collar of the new shirt was itching – the clothes he'd been given were weird, but at least they kept him warmer than the jeans, though he'd been reluctant to let go of them. There was a shirt in a kind of reddish-brown, and pants in the same material; then a longish vest with a belt, and a jacket, which he'd been surprised to see, as it looked really different from what the others were wearing. Rudy had told him he'd practically invented it, by giving instructions to a seamstress – when he'd come over, they'd all been wearing bulky cloaks.

In fact, Rudy was wearing a variant on the same outfit – when he saw that Kris had realized this, he grinned proudly.

"At least I left my mark on one thing in this place! Oh, and there's something else, but I'll tell you later, 'cause we're here!"

Kris looked around him. 'Here' was a nondescript door at one end of a really long corridor, and he didn't realize what was supposed to be so special about it, until Rudy pushed through the doorway and Kris saw what was behind it.  
Kris stood there, open-mouthed, for a few seconds.

"Those are-"

"Flame-throwers, yeah! Awesome, right?" Rudy's child-like glee was infectious, and Kris found himself grinning until a thought struck him.

"Wait a minute. You said you never actually defeated them. So these things didn't work?"

Rudy looked sad for a moment, but then cheered up again.

"No, not really. But in those days there were millions of the Dark Ones, man! Billions! And they knew about the flame throwers and how to take them out of the equation. Now there's only a few, and they can't be that smart, else they would've-"

He stopped himself abruptly, but Kris knew what he wanted to say. Else they would've gone straight to L.A., and would've . . . he didn't even want to think about it.

"Anyway," Rudy said, still cheerful, "that's not all we'll be doing here. Ingold said we can use this room to teach you some stuff, and there's the . . . um . . . it's like a VCR, but with magic, you can look at stuff on it . . ."

He was pointing at a raised platform in the middle of the room, like a marble table with an indentation in the middle, but Kris stopped listening when Rudy said they wanted to teach him something. Teach him what? He just wanted to keep his head down until they could send both him and Adam back home; he wasn't interested in their . . . stuff.

"Look, I'm not interested in . . . in magic. I'm sure I can do something else to be useful around here."

Even as he said it, Kris knew he was lying. But doing magic here would be the greater mistake, wouldn't it? What if it meant he could never go back? And he wanted to go back, more than anything he wanted his family, his parents, his friends, his music. And he wanted that hollow look to leave Adam's eyes forever – he'd never seen Adam like that, not even during the worst parts of the months spent in the mansion, when everyone had an opinion about how Adam should live his life.

He looked up and Rudy had a sceptical look on his face. He still sounded sympathetic when he continued.

"Kris. I know this is difficult to accept, but these creatures, they want _you_. They know you now, they have your scent, not in a physical way," he hastened to add, "in a sort of psychic-mental energy . . . way," he trailed off, obviously finding it hard to explain concepts he'd lived with for so long.

"You have to learn how to defend yourself. The flame-throwers might help, but a better way of using fire is- well, you know what it is. You've already done it."

Kris bit his lip and tried to remember what he had actually done.

"All I did was yell at the fire. I didn't say any, any spells, or something."

He waved his hands around to try and illustrate what he meant, only to find Rudy smiling at his attempt to show what a real wizard was like. He had a sudden visual of himself doing the Christopher Lee thing from the Lord of the Rings movies and winced as a thought struck him.

"I don't have to wear robes, do I? 'Cause that would be . . . Dude, you're laughing at me!"

Rudy was in fact trying to hold back his chuckles, and then waved a hand over his own clothes.

"Do you see me wearing robes? The clothes you've got on now are fine. And as for the fire, you did all that you needed to do. You _know_ how to make it come. Don't you? You just call it, by its name. Its real name."

Kris wanted to say that he didn't know what 'fire' was called over here, even though he knew that neither he nor Adam had been speaking English since they got there – apparently, Ingold was more powerful than either of them had realised. But before he actually spoke, he understood what Rudy meant. Fire was about the happy crackling sound it made, the sudden warmth, the sweet smell of wood burning, the way it grew, beyond control. Could he really do it? Just visualize it, and make it happen?

Rudy was pointing him towards the room's fireplace, which already contained some twists of paper and some dry-looking twigs. Kris looked at the fireplace, and tried to remember the few times he'd been around an open fire. The room was well-lit and quiet, and comfortably temperate. Still, a drop of sweat was rolling down the back of his neck, irritating him almost unbearably. He wanted to stop, to give up, to leave this place. He'd had enough, what did they expect from him . . . and all the while, he was chasing that feeling in his head, the warmth, the danger, everything combined. He craved it, yearned after it, and just when he'd almost given up, with a sudden crackle, the twists of paper were consumed, and a tiny orange flame started working on the twigs.

He realised, with a start, that his face was drenched with sweat, and that his hands were clenched in his jacket. He released the cloth with an effort, willing his hands to stop shaking. Rudy was patting him on the shoulder, and urged him to sit down. Kris felt drained, and wondered whether he'd done the right thing. It was done now, and it made sense to use it and try to defend himself.

Rudy pointed to some candles in the corner, and Kris started trying to light them. But this was precision work, and much more difficult than the fireplace. Soon, three of the candles had turned into a large puddle of wax, while the other two were just refusing to change in any way. At least, that's what Kris started thinking, and he was getting more and more frustrated and pissed off.

"Let's go to lunch, and we can tell Ingold what progress you've made." Rudy's voice made him jump.

"Lunch? We just got here, we . . ."; he automatically looked at his wrist, but he'd taken his watch off last night and hadn't bothered to put it on again. Not that it would be any use here. He looked at Rudy, puzzled, and Rudy pointed at a different candle in a corner, which had completely burnt down in the time they'd been there. He couldn't believe he'd been working on that for hours. With a last curious look at the marble platform, Kris followed Rudy out of the room.

Sitting down at the table which had been used for breakfast, Kris realised that he was really hungry – magic really took it out of you. It looked so much easier in the movies, he thought resentfully. He looked around at the others – there was Rudy, Ingold and Gil, but no sign of Adam. Just as he opened his mouth to ask, Gil answered his unspoken question.

"Adam's busy at the moment – he needs some time to get used to life here." He knew she was being vague, but he felt too tired to get more information out of her. Besides, he didn't feel like trying to explain to Adam exactly why he was buying into all this magic shit. He barely understood it himself. Just that, in this place, there was no room for music, and so he had adopted what was, to him, the next best thing. Temporarily. Just to keep them alive until they finally got home. He decided to concentrate on the food – and how did they know that he loved fried chicken?

Ingold twinkled at him – the man had more moods than a teenager – and just said, "Oh, sometimes when you communicate mind-to-mind, more things are let slip than was intended. Eat, Kris. You will need to keep your strength up."

The first bite only served to show him how hungry he really was, and he was really enjoying the food, only to risk choking once he registered what Gil was saying.

"We think we can find you separate rooms for the rest of your stay – it will have to be in different corridors, though, and- Kris? Kris, are you okay?"

No, he was not okay, Kris thought as Rudy dealt a couple of back blows, making him feel like his spine was going to come out of his mouth, following the chicken.

"I'm fine; stop, please!" He fended off Rudy with one hand, while he wiped off the crumbs with the other, hoping he hadn't spat over the whole table. He took a long drink of the water they put in front of him, and decided to go for it. He'd explain to Adam later.

"We don't need a separate room. We don't. Um. Or separate beds. Because we're, yes. Uh. We're together. Lovers, in fact. Me and Adam. That's right."

Ingold and Gil exchanged a sceptical look. Were they buying it? Kris wanted to go on, say more, give more detail. More than anything he wanted to stop the blush he knew was creeping up his face. But what more could he say to convince them? Best shut up, and keep it simple. He didn't want to risk being separated from Adam now. It would take very little effort for Adam to avoid him for the rest of their stay, and Kris wanted, more than anything- what? Ok, he was lying to himself here. He knew what he wanted, in theory. And this was his one chance to confirm what he really felt about Adam. What _Adam_ would say when he found out, well, he'd deal with that problem (or nuclear meltdown) when he got to it.

He glared back at the others, and folded his arms.

"Do you people have a problem with this? It. I mean. You know." In his head he could hear Adam jeering, _you can't even say it, Allen_. He _would_ say it. In his own time.

"It's not that," Rudy said, making warding motions with his hands. "Darwath law and Church statutes have no problem with same-sex relationships. We've even had same-sex marriages in the last couple of years. It's only . . . ", and he trailed off, looking to Gil for help. She shrugged and looked like she was bracing herself for a verbal assault.

"You two didn't seem very . . . loving. And he just went off this morning . . ."

Unexpectedly, Ingold was the one who stood up for Kris.

"Probably just a lovers' tiff, am I right? A little disagreement between people who love each other very much," he continued. Kris realised he must have looked blank, not because he didn't understand what Ingold was saying, but because he didn't know why Ingold was saying it. As he stopped talking, Gil put her hand over Ingold's and they exchanged a look of deep understanding and affection. Kris had to look away, feeling like he was intruding on something private.

This time, when Gil finally turned to him, she wasn't looking sceptical anymore, and as Kris looked at Ingold, the old man winked at him. He actually winked, Kris fumed, but then he decided to let it go. He'd got what he wanted, and now it was just a question of explaining everything to Adam. He cringed inwardly, but he knew he had to bite the bullet and just get on with it. First, though, he'd finish eating. Hopefully, no-one else was going to make him choke again.

The meal took longer than he expected, and turned into a spirited conversation about magic, and why it wouldn't work in Kris's world. Not that Kris was sad about it – he didn't want this, he didn't want to be Kris Allen, wizard. He just wanted to go back and make his music. That was all he'd ever wanted, and he was desperately trying not to think about what was happening back home. Would everyone think they'd run off together? In an earthquake, leaving their injured driver behind? He knew that people would believe anything of celebrities, but he was sure that their families would be raising enough of a stink to make sure their disappearance would be investigated.

Which was another can of worms, really. What the hell were they going to tell people if, no, _when_ they got back? When. He had to hold on to when. And it was pointless worrying what they'd do then, when they were faced with much bigger problems right now. Kris was just finding it difficult to face their present problems because they were so bizarre he kept catching himself thinking about them like a dream which would resolve itself, and that was dangerous thinking, he knew. These . . . things (he almost didn't want to say their name even in his mind) were real, and if they caught him and Adam, they were going to be really really dead.

Kris was so lost in his thoughts that he arrived at their room without knowing it. He walked in absently, and nearly fell over the man kneeling beside the bed, his back to the door. He was just about to back out, thinking he had barged into someone else's room by mistake, when he glimpsed his jacket lying over the bed. This was their room! Who the hell was that Guard, and why was he pawing through Adam's stuff? He was suddenly furious at his own trusting nature: he'd really fallen for all their bullshit, all that, _We'll help you, come let's do some spells,_ and all the while they were spying on them? And what had they done with Adam?


	4. Chapter 4

He cleared his throat in anticipation of saying, well, he hadn't decided _what_ yet, but it was going to be pretty angry. At the sound, the kneeling man's head came up. It looked really familiar, from the back. Kris could feel the shock building even as the man turned around and smiled at him. It was Adam. Of course it was Adam. Kris felt his mouth falling open as he took in Adam, dressed from head to toe in a Guard's uniform, complete with sword-belt, and, oh yes, a sword. Adam's smile dimmed a little as he took in the expression on Kris's face. Kris guessed that he must look really horrified.

"What the fuck, Adam? What the fucking fuck?"

Adam winced. Kris supposed he'd expected a better reaction, and he felt sorry for a few seconds. Then he got angry, again.

Adam's expression turned stubborn.

"I see you've changed your outfit, too. And is that smoke I smell?"

"Adam, it's not about the clothes!" Adam crossed his arms and looked more mulish than ever. "Didn't we say we were going to keep a low profile here? And just, just lay low until we can go back? I just learned one fricking spell, to create fire and be able to defend myself if those things came after me!"

Adam interrupted with, "What d'you think I want this for?" He gestured down at himself. "It's not a fucking fashion statement! I can't wave my hands and say 'Abracadabra' and set them on fire!" Kris found himself murmuring 'That's not what it's like,' but Adam wasn't listening.

"Didn't you hear what that guy said, about the breeding? Fuck! Thanks to Tommy, I've seen _Alien_, _Aliens_, _Alien 3_, _Alien vs Predator_, and _Alien vs Predator 2: The Incredibly Shitastic Sequel_, and you know what?"

Adam and Kris were practically nose-to-nose by this time, and Kris could feel Adam's breath on his face. He didn't know whether he was scared of Adam's rage, or incredibly turned on. It was a bit of both, he concluded.

"What?" Kris asked.

"I'm not going out like that, ok? I'm not." Adam's voice had dwindled to a whisper, and there were tears in his eyes. Kris put his arms around him.

"That's not gonna happen. Come on. Come on." He found himself patting Adam on the back, trying for a reassuring tone, even as he could feel his own flesh crawl as he tried to stop imagining what it would be like, to die that way. He had to distract Adam.

"Hey." Adam looked up, sniffing and blinking rapidly. "What about _Alien Resurrection_?" Adam giggled, the tears still shining in his eyes.

"What about it? Tommy hated that movie. Hated it. He never forgave Joss Whedon, either. Once we were at an industry party, _I_ had to make sure Tommy got drunk enough so that he wouldn't notice Joss was there."

Adam drew himself up, looking puzzled. Kris realised he still had his arms around Adam, and pulled back. Adam shrugged and turned away.

"Anyway, I came to get my things. I'm moving closer to the Guards' quarters. I know you want us to stick together, but I need to learn all I can from those guys if we want to get through this alive."

Kris knew that his face had given something away, because Adam's expression changed from matter-of-fact to suspicious. Kris scratched the back of his neck.

"Yeah, about that." How was he going to say it? _You aren't going anywhere?_ Yeah, that didn't sound like a serial killer, at all. How did guys do this stuff, anyway, without coming across like douchebags? Adam raised his eyebrows, and Kris blurted out the first words that came to mind.

"I told them we're together." Adam's eyes grew wider and wider, and his mouth opened and closed a few times. Kris winced: Adam speechless, now that was a first.

"You did _what_? Kris? What the fuck?" Now _this_ was Adam in a rage, no doubt. "Are you seriously telling me you told them we're in a relationship? Why the fuck would you do that?"

"Because it's what I want. For a while, now. I . . ."

Not for the first time, Kris cursed his own lack of eloquence. Why couldn't he just say what he felt? Why did other people find it so easy? He could perform and sing and lose himself in his music, but just expressing his feelings was the hardest thing he'd ever tried to do.

Adam was waiting for an answer, and he didn't look like he'd wait for much longer. In fact, just then he released a flood of angry words.

"I can't believe you. I haven't heard from you in six months, Kris. Six months. You got your people to warn me off! You practically put a fucking restraining order on me, and now you _want_ me? Seriously? Or is it that there's no-one else here, you think, oh, the fag can give me handjobs while we're stuck here-"

"Adam! Adam please, just listen. Please." He put his hand on Adam' chest to try and stop the outpouring of rage and hurt. He had to squeeze every word out, each one leaving his lips with an effort.

"I couldn't see you. I couldn't speak to you. My marriage was over . . . it was so hard, it hurt so much. I made a commitment and I couldn't keep it, and it felt so wrong. I felt like. Like a sinner. But we just grew apart, and I still love her, just not, not like a husband . . . "

Why, _why_ couldn't he stop rambling? Adam was going to think he'd fried his brains practising that spell. He looked up, afraid of the expression on Adam's face, but he just looked puzzled and sad. Heartened, Kris continued.

"I was afraid of seeing you. I knew I wouldn't be able to resist. I've only loved one other person like this." He stopped, willing Adam to say something, anything. He didn't know how he was going to tell Adam the rest. Adam frowned, but still kept his arms crossed and his face closed.

"So, you love me." Adam's tone was blank, and Kris's heart sank in his chest. "But you didn't need to tell me any of this, just let me think that you didn't give a shit about me. Did you think I was fucking pining for you, that I'd come whenever you asked? I'm not your fucking dog, Allen!"

Oh, God. Now Adam was furious. Kris decided to get it all out. He hoped Ingold would have something for a black eye, because Adam was so going to clock him one when he heard the rest.

"I was scared of the. Of being with. I didn't know if I could. What if I didn't like the . . ." Kris waved his hands around vaguely, trying to explain, knowing he probably hadn't explained anything. Or had he? Because Adam was looking more enraged than ever, which he hadn't thought possible.

"You were scared of _dick_? That's your big excuse, the good ol' gay panic? Fuck, you really _are_ a redneck!"

Kris opened his mouth to protest, insulted, but Adam waved him off. "Sorry, that was below the belt. Look, just because you might have been attracted to me, doesn't mean we have to have the great passion for the ages. And just because you're interested in me, doesn't mean I want you."

"Really?" Now Kris felt he was on safer ground. If Adam was pulling out the insults, that meant he was using his weapons of last resort. Adam never went for the personal route unless something affected him personally. And if Kris affected him personally, then . . .

"So, if I kissed you, right now, you wouldn't give a shit. You'd push me away." Kris walked forward as he spoke, crowding Adam against the wall. Adam looked away, keeping his arms crossed in front of him.

"Like you'd ever make the first move. You'd need a personality transplant for that," Adam scoffed.

Kris took a deep breath, grabbed Adam's shoulders, and pulled him down for what, looking back, Kris recognized as probably the clumsiest and most awkward kiss of all time. Adam's lips were dry and slightly chapped, and he kept his mouth closed throughout. Kris kept pushing, though, pressing clumsy kisses against the corner of Adam's mouth, until it opened into a reluctant smile, and Adam's arms opened involuntarily, letting Kris move closer to his chest.

"Ok, if that's what you call a kiss, then you've got more problems than I- mmph!"

Kris took advantage of Adam opening his mouth to get his tongue in there, and that was when the tide turned in his favour. It felt like Adam didn't want to respond, at first, but soon his arms went round Kris, who found himself pressed up against Adam in a way he'd missed, though the erection against his belly was new. Good, though. It felt so good. Adam's hands were everywhere, rubbing his back and grabbing his ass, pulling Kris flush against Adam, feeling his arousal.

Kris felt himself flushing hot and cold. This was what he'd been afraid of? There was no question that this was amazing and hot and sweet, and that he loved Adam more than ever. Why had he waited so long, wasted all that time? No matter, he thought. No time like the present. He broke off the kiss and started pulling Adam towards the bed.

"Wait a minute!" Adam was laughing, and not really resisting Kris. "Don't I get dinner first? I don't put out on the first date!"

"Don't you start with me!" Kris was in no mood for this, even if it was just Adam teasing him. He pushed Adam down on the bed and climbed into his lap. "I want . . . I don't know . . ." he felt frustrated, even more so when he looked at Adam's smiling face.

"What do you want, baby?" Adam's voice was gentle, and he brought his hand up to cradle Kris's face. There was so much love in his expression, Kris felt tears pricking his eyes at the thought that he'd hurt him so badly.

"I want you. I want everything." Kris made a gesture which was supposed to take in the bed and all the things they would do there. "But first I want another kiss." Adam smiled, grabbed his shoulders, and flipped him onto the bed, and climbed on top of him. Then he turned serious and kissed him, his hot wet tongue invading Kris's mouth relentlessly, and Kris could only cling to him, rubbing himself against Adam.

Ann. Bit of a fade to black here, guys. Don't want to break the rules. People who want the full version need to go here: /works/104961/chapters/207773

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	5. Chapter 5

Looking back, Adam realised that the next few weeks passed with dizzying speed, each day like the next, only marked by incredible bouts of love-making and just as spectacular fights between them, followed themselves by more sex, this time of the make-up kind. He spent most of his days training with the Guards, patrolling the Keep, and occasionally going on expeditions in the woods around the Keep, to try and track down the Dark.

No villages or towns had been attacked, but often when they went through the forests, they would find the remnants of camps, which reminded Adam with horrible clarity of their first night in Darwath. The first time they had come across a deserted and destroyed camp with its sad little heaps of half-melted bones, Adam had walked jerkily to a bush and heaved up his breakfast, retching until there was nothing left in his stomach but bile. He had killed those people. It was his fault, his and Kris's. Though Kris had only followed him through the tear, so ultimately the responsibility was his. He was just about to retch again when a cool hand landed on his shoulder.

"These people put themselves outside society, and refused our protection."

"So they deserved what they got, the way they died?" Adam knew he could never best the Icefalcon in a contest of any kind, but still, he was furious. The man just looked as calm and collected as he always did.

"They were weak. And the guilt does not rest on your shoulders." There was no hiding anything from the man. "The Dark Ones do not ask for permission or help when they decide to do what they would. You must not let this affect you. You must be cold in your emotions, else you will lose any fight you undertake."

With that he strode away, ordering the other Guards to gather some of the bones for Ingold and Rudy to examine, and burying the rest.

Adam knew that Kris was spending his days with Rudy mainly, perfecting his fire spell, and a couple of others Kris thought he didn't know about. There was even some of the magic Adam could take part in; a sort of viewing screen in one of the rooms of the Keep. Kris had showed him how to use the thing that looked like a big frosted table, and Adam had spent a few afternoons putting in the frosted blocks and speaking a few words to unlock what was stored in them (Rudy had compared them to videotapes; Adam was sad at the thought of all the technological advances Rudy would never see, now).

He found himself interested in what the people of Darwath had been like three thousand years ago, before the Keep itself was built. Rudy had told him that their whole world was going through an Ice Age, which had started then and had somehow caused the Dark to leave their Nests underground. It was weird looking at all these people dressed in skimpy clothing and obviously trying to keep cool, and comparing them to the people around him who wore layers on top of layers in a vain attempt to keep warm. Just watching these people and knowing what awaited them, either a horrible death caused by the Dark, or freezing to death trying to get to safety, was making this form of entertainment ever more depressing for Adam. He didn't know why he came back to the viewing room, but it was like an addiction. He just couldn't stay away.

His breaking point came during a film of some religious ceremony being carried out with some solemnity – however, two of the congregation were more interested in each other, both men. Adam watched, entranced, as a priest tried to make an offering, while a beautiful boy with blue hair and a lush white flower placed behind his ear blew a kiss at a muscular man who was combing his hair rather than paying attention to the ceremony. Adam's vision blurred with tears. That boy was dead, and so was everyone else in this video – not just because three thousand years had passed, but because creatures from hell had torn their lives apart.

Just as they had his. Though that was a pretty self-obsessed way of looking at it. He wasn't the only one in the shit, there was Kris in it with him. Though sometimes a resentful part of brain insisted that Kris had really fallen on his feet, here, hadn't he? He had his magic and he still had his music. That was another thing.

The look on Kris's face when Rudy had come along with that guitar was something that Adam had never seen on his face before. Well, maybe once. Still, it was like a light had come on in Kris's eyes, never mind that the guitar was strangely shaped and looked vaguely different to anything Adam had ever seen, not that he considered himself an expert on guitars. But Kris had cradled it like a baby, and had spent an hour fiddling with the strings and tightening the pegs, until he finally started playing something. When the first strains of Blackbird had filled the room, Rudy's eyes shone with joy, and even Gil had to turn away to hide the emotion in her face.

So Kris had not only found his new niche, but had regained his old one. While Adam, he felt like that boy in the video, with his outrageous hair and outlandish dress. The kid was beautiful and fragile like a hothouse flower, and probably hadn't lasted five minutes when the Dark came. So Adam could use a sword, so what? He'd only actually ever fought against the Dark and won once, and if Kris hadn't been there, he too would have become a pile of bones on the cold ground.

About a week after they'd arrived, Adam had tried to find a way to write, to pass the time when he wasn't training or with Kris. To their credit, Rudy and Gil had managed to get him some paper, and had showed him how to use the goose quill to write with, and had even given him some ink. He felt guilty at first, to be making demands on what was essentially a post-apocalyptic civilisation. But Rudy had assured him that they had started producing paper and ink ten years ago, so the amount Adam needed wouldn't make a dent in their supply.

And then, with paper in front of him, an ink-well and a sharpened quill at the ready, he sat down, and wrote . . . nothing. It was as if his mind went completely blank, and for a moment he heard Neil's voice pointing out that it was nothing new. He tried to think of a song that needed work, but nothing came to mind. Whenever he opened his mouth to sing a few notes, it was as if the echoes mocked him, and his voice sounded thin and weak to his ears.

Even his appearance looked strange to him. He'd been dutifully putting in his plugs every morning, and taking them off at night, but blindly, as mirrors were not plentiful in the Keep. Once, walking through the aisle, he'd caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the pools of water which apparently supplied the Keep. He'd looked away quickly, but not before getting an impression of a too pale face, surrounded by a mess of hair with ginger roots. When he mentioned to Kris that his face probably looked a mess, keeping his tone light and breezy, Kris had spent a very enjoyable half hour kissing every freckle, and telling him about all the colors of eye-shadow and eyeliner they'd buy when they got back. _And glitter, lots and lots of glitter,_ Kris had said, punctuating each word with a kiss. _You don't even like it!_ Adam had scoffed. _Ha, shows what you know. And it's you, idiot! I love you with make-up, and I love you without. Hey, guess what? I love you!_ Adam smiled at the memory. The kisses had progressed into much more, and it was only later, lying awake next to a snoring Kris, that he wished he had Kris's confidence that they'd ever go home.

Adam realized he'd been sitting in the room for a long while, staring into space. The video must have played itself over and over, and was half-way through its most recent cycle. The boy blew the latest of millions of kisses that he'd sent to his lover over the centuries, and Adam pulled the video out of the table with a jerk. Enough. He couldn't watch anymore. He rubbed his hand roughly over his eyes, and decided to get out of there. This wasn't helping.

Kris had been to the practice ground, looking for Adam, but it was empty. His spell-casting session had been shorter than usual, and he knew there was no patrol that afternoon. So where the hell was Adam? He'd managed to get himself turned around on the third floor, so he was relieved when he saw a familiar figure walking towards him.

"Hey, I was just looking for you! Aren't you gonna come eat? Adam, what's wr- umph"-

The next thing Kris knew he was being lifted and slammed up against the wall, and while his stunned brain informed him that the training was really making Adam strong, Adam's tongue invaded his mouth. All he could do was hang on, trying to keep his legs from automatically wrapping themselves around Adam's waist. It was hot and wet and amazing, and the world went away, except for a moment when he heard approaching footsteps, which stopped, and then faded away again.

Adam pulled back, his face hot and flushed, his lips swollen, his eyes dark with lust and some emotion Kris was finding it difficult to work out.

"I've got food, in the room. Come on."

Kris found himself being dragged towards their bedroom, and pulled back.

"Wait a minute, Adam, are you ok? What's wrong?"

"I want to fuck. Ok?" Adam just kept pulling him, and didn't slow down until they'd reached their room. He dropped to his knees and rummaged for the holster bag which Adam had told him he'd packed with stuff to piss off Roger and Lane – condoms and sachets of lube, ready to reveal to anyone who asked on the red carpet. Kris smiled as he thought how pissed off Adam must have been to have planned that; it had been a while since he really shocked anyone.

His smile faded as he tried to imagine what had been going on at home, in their world. He'd tried to put it out of his mind, to live in the moment, but watching Adam take out a condom brought it all back. What would his parents be doing, his brother, his friends, his band? Had they already given up on him? His parents wouldn't, of course, but he wasn't so sure about everyone in his life. Would he even have a life left when he went back?

"_Why_ are you still dressed?" Kris was pulled out of his depressing musings by an angry voice, and when he looked up he was confronted by a stark naked Adam, holding a condom. He threw the condom at Kris, who just watched it, stunned, as it landed in his lap.

"Get your clothes off, and get that on. Now, where was that fucking lube . . . I know I had another one left . . . "

"Adam . . . what's the rush? We could take it slow." Kris didn't know what Adam's strange mood was all about, and it was making him nervous. He turned around and fixed Kris with a brilliant smile, one of the type Kris hadn't seen for a while. He smiled back, automatically, which was the effect Adam's beams had on everyone.

"Look, there's a time for slow and leisurely. And there's a time for hard and fast, and that's what I want right now. What I need. And I think you're just the guy to give it to me. Give it to me good."

He'd started advancing towards Kris, who swallowed, nervously, as Adam got on the bed, his knees outside Kris's thighs, his voice becoming a whisper.

"Hmm? How about it? I'm gonna ride you like a pony. Now get your fucking clothes off."

The last came with a bite to his chin, and Kris gulped, and complied, hurriedly.

The next half-hour passed in a blur, and Kris knew he was having the best sex of his life, and he would have enjoyed it much more if Adam would just fucking slow down. But it was amazing, and the earth moved, and then it was over, Adam collapsing at his side on the bed, one arm over his face.

Kris caught his breath and looked at Adam, to ask him what that had all been about, but Adam's chest was rising and falling slower now, and it almost looked like he was falling asleep – no way! Adam was not going to just doze off without giving Kris an explanation for his bizarre behaviour – ok, it had resulted in what possibly was the hottest sex he'd ever had. Still. Something wasn't right.

"Hey," he said, poking Adam as he did.

"Mmm." Adam sounded like he was halfway asleep already.

"Adam?"

"What!" Adam had opened one eye now, and was looking at Kris under his arm, which was still half-covering his face.

"What's going on with you? You're acting weird. I mean. It was, um, great, but." Adam finally took pity on Kris and smiled.

"I was just feeling down. But you make everything better." Adam rolled over and started kissing him again, slow this time, not frantic like earlier.

Kris was woken the next morning by Adam getting dressed – he'd just buckled up his sword belt when he noticed that Kris was awake.

"Oh man, sorry! We're starting off earlier this morning. I'll see you later."

Adam was pulling his left boot on, when Kris saw him wince, and then again when he got up. What had happened? Then he remembered what they'd done last night.

"Oh, crap. Adam, are you hurt? I hurt you, right. Shit."

Adam shook his head and rolled his eyes, looking down at Kris with an indulgent expression.

"I'm just a bit sore, that's all. It's been a while. I'm not gonna _die_. Straight boys," he added with a sniff, "always thinkin' anal is gonna kill ya."

Kris felt a sudden flood of ice down his spine, and the smile on his face froze. _Straight_ boys? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

"Who the fuck here is straight, Adam? 'Cause I thought sucking your dick every night made me at least bisexual." Kris knew Adam heard the anger in his voice, because his grip tightened on his coat, but then he just turned as if to leave.

"Look, I'll be late. We'll talk later."

"We'll talk _now_, Adam."

He sat up, really pissed off now. What did Adam think they'd been doing all this time? He had to keep calm, though. It was all starting to add up; Adam's weird behavior last night, and now this. There was something going on with Adam, and he hadn't even noticed, in spite of the fact that they'd been sleeping together for weeks.

Adam still didn't want to look at him. Kris could see his hands, noticed the way Adam was twisting his fingers, as if he was playing nervously with rings he didn't wear anymore. He got out of bed, ignoring the sudden chill which made his skin pebble. He looked closely at Adam for what seemed like the first time in weeks. They'd given him and Kris shaving gear, so they were both clean shaven, but as far as resemblance to their old selves, that was it.

Adam looked paler than ever, the freckles in stark contrast with his skin. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and his lips were chapped, not helped by Adam's nervous habit of biting them all the time. His roots were coming out, in clear contrast to the pitch black Kris was used to. Even his eyebrows had ginger roots, though he could only see them because he was so close. But this was all superficial stuff, right? They'd fix all that once they got home; they'd even talked about it. Did Adam not believe him or something?

He put a hand on Adam's arm, and Adam really looked him in the eye – Kris could see the saddest difference there. When had he seen Adam really smile lately? His eyes were haunted and shadowed, and he was only really happy when he was training and not thinking, or when they were in bed.

"Come on, let's talk." He made Adam sit on the bed, went to the door and told a passing guard that Adam wasn't feeling well, then closed it and sat next to him.

"Adam, what do you think is going on here?" He tried not to sound as hurt and accusing as he felt, but it was hard.

Adam swallowed, started speaking, and then stopped.

"I don't know why I said that. Or maybe I do know. I love us being together, but I hate it here. And I think that if we ever get back, this," he waved his hands around, indicating the bed they shared, the room itself, "will be gone. Over. And it'll hurt like hell, but I can't stay here. _I can't stay here_, Kris. I thought I could do this, but I can't. It's killing me. I don't recognise myself anymore."

Kris was puzzled. They both wanted to go home, didn't they? Why was Adam acting as if he, Kris, wanted to stay? Again he felt like there was something he'd missed, and he wished he'd paid more attention.

"Adam, I want to go home too. I don't belong here either," he started, but he had to stop, because Adam was shaking his head.

"You have the magic. That makes you more a part of this than I could ever be. And you even have your music here." The guitar. Of course it was that fucking guitar. He almost wished Rudy'd never come along with it, but once he'd seen that beloved familiar shape in Rudy's arms he'd been gone. And Adam had been unusually quiet for that whole evening.

"It's just a temporary thing, Adam. I _do_ want to go home, just as much as you do. This isn't my home, and I don't feel comfortable here." He stopped Adam, who had just opened his mouth to contradict him.

"Please, Adam. I love you. I want to leave this place, and we'll be together at home. Please believe me." Adam lowered his head to Kris's, and murmured, "I love you," in a voice so low Kris barely heard him, he only felt the puffs of breath against his skin.

"Besides," Kris continued, "you could sing, right? Why haven't you?" He was really puzzled, now. Why hadn't Adam been singing? And why hadn't _he_ noticed? He felt like he'd been living some strange dream these last weeks, and he'd missed Adam getting more and more depressed. Was it so bad he couldn't even sing? What was going on here?

Adam just looked nervous, and hunted.

"You'll think it's stupid, or crazy. Fuck, _I_ think it's crazy." He tried to avoid meeting Kris's eyes. Kris just put his hand on Adam's cheek and made Adam look at him. He kissed Adam, once, twice, until the look in his eyes brightened.

"I just feel they can hear me. You know, _them_," he stressed, as Kris looked puzzled. Oh. _Them_. They hadn't really talked about the Dark after the first few days – they'd both been treating this whole thing like an extended camping trip, complete with medieval re-enactment, perhaps in the hope that if they didn't talk about the main obstacle in the way of their going home, it would vanish. Or maybe _he_'d been acting this way, not Adam. When was the last time Adam had told him about finding the remains of people the Dark had killed? Maybe Adam was trying to protect Kris from that horror, and it was destroying him.

"They're not animals. They're intelligent, and they have their own magic, that's what Ingold said, right?" Kris nodded, even though the blood was turning into ice water in his veins. Adam was taking every hidden fear he'd tried to ignore, and was bringing it out into the open.

"Sometimes I think they're listening, waiting for me to sing. And then they'll know where we are. And how to get to us."

Adam's words seemed to hang in the air. Kris realized he was shaking – he'd been sitting half-naked on the bed for too long, and the room was getting chilly. Adam noticed his shivers and grabbed the blanket, rolling him in it, laughing and glaring at him at the same time.

"You idiot! Why didn't you tell me you were freezing to death?" He started rubbing Kris's chilled skin, mumbling to himself angrily. Kris grabbed his hands, and forced him to stop.

"Adam! Adam, look at me. We're in this together, and we're going home together. Do you understand that? Do you believe me?" Adam stared at him for a long moment, and smiled at him, one of those huge smiles which made the world a better place. It was like the sun came out from behind a cloud. Kris wanted to bask in its warmth for at least an hour, but the sound of his stomach rumbling broke the moment and sent Adam into fits of giggles.

"Don't you laugh at me," Kris said, while trying his best to tickle the parts of Adam he could reach. Adam tried to move away, protesting that he wasn't ticklish in between bouts of helpless laughter and pleas for mercy.

"This is your fault," Kris continued, once Adam was lying on the bed next to him, gasping for breath. "_And_ you lied to me," he said while Adam made his eyes big and mouthed _moi?_ in an innocent voice while pointing to his own chest.

"Oh yeah," Kris nodded fervently. "You said you had food!"

Adam looked wicked at that, and he was probably going to say something about feeding Kris his cock instead, except Kris's stomach rumbled again, louder this time. Adam laughed so much, tears started rolling down his face. Then he pulled Kris up and told him to get dressed, slapping his ass for good measure.

"Before I get ideas about what I really want for breakfast," Adam said, leering at him.

"No way," Kris said, hopping in place to get his pants on quicker. Even though his outfit had so many more layers than what he was used to, he managed to get dressed in a few minutes. "Food now, sex later."

And with that he grabbed Adam, planted a passionate kiss on him, and then raced to the door. "I am _so_ getting all the best stuff." He waited until Adam recovered from the kiss and then raced off, sure that Adam would chase him.

The sound of running and laughter behind him told him he was right. He fought to blink away the tears which were threatening an appearance. He'd been losing Adam, too caught up in his own shit to see how he'd not been coping with this. Well, that was over. All that training separately crap, it ended now. From now on, they would do everything together, fuck everyone here if they didn't like it.

Adam caught up with him as he threw himself down on one of the chairs in the dining hall, and sat down opposite. Ingold and Rudy were already there, and they exchanged looks and then put a platter in front of Kris, with an air of habit. Kris noticed that Adam looked stunned as he stared at the platter, and then looked at Kris, open-mouthed.

"What? What's wrong with fried chicken for breakfast?" Kris made himself sound as put out as possible, hoping against hope that it would work. And there it was, that full body laugh Kris loved so much, where Adam looked like he was going to fall off his chair with laughter. . . _That_ was his Adam. Kris smiled. He blinked, once, twice. And then, everything changed.


	6. Chapter 6

Kris opened his eyes with a gasp. There was pitch darkness all around him. Adam was shaking him, sounding frantic, begging him to wake up, his voice terrified. What was wrong? They were in bed, right? Except he was lying on something hard, rough, and damp. He couldn't remember how they got there. Where were they? They weren't outside, at night? What the fuck had happened?

"Kris! _Kris_, can you hear me? Kris?" Adam was whispering, hissing into his ear.

"Yeah," he wanted to say, but it came out more of a moan. He touched the back of his head, and his fingers came away wet. The sudden burst of pain set off flashes of memories, like the slides on a presentation. After breakfast, Kris had said, "Let's go for a walk, together!"

Not the best idea, looking back. The walk had been fine, the kisses against a tree had been even better, except the birds had stopped singing, and the air grew close, gluey, suffocating. Everything came back to him, in jerks and flashes.

_Flash._ Adam's smiling face in between scorching kisses. _Flash._ Adam looking around him, puzzled at the change in atmosphere. _Flash._ The ground collapsing under their feet, followed by a sharp pain in his head. And then nothing.

Kris pulled himself up to a sitting position, helped by Adam, who tried to feel all over his scalp for the wound, only for Kris to bat him away. If they didn't get out of there, soon, a flesh wound would be the least of their problems.

"How long was I out for?"

"About a minute. Not more." Kris turned too fast to try and look around him, and the cave started turning on its own, followed by a horribly sickening sensation. No, he was going to ignore that. Any concussion would have to wait. His eyes had adjusted to the near pitch dark, and were taking advantage of the faint glow in the walls, but Adam was still just a vague outline of a man holding a sword. Kris tried to concentrate. They hadn't been attacked yet, but that was just a matter of time. Already he could feel a horribly alien consciousness trying to invade his own thoughts, stifling his breath, so he supposed they were close by. Too close.

"What do you think, do I start a fire?" Kris hadn't had many field tests of his abilities, and no-one had ever thought that he would be all on his own against the Dark.

"Maybe you should try to scry first? Before we draw a flaming arrow over our heads?"

Kris wanted to point out angrily that if Adam thought _they_ didn't know they were there, he was living in a dream world, but even the movement of his head to look at where he supposed Adam was made his head spin sickeningly. He had to pull himself together. This wasn't helping.

"Yeah, if you can find me a pool of water. I forgot to pack mine this morning." Kris had to imagine Adam's cocked eyebrow and sarcastic look, but he knew they were there.

"Rudy told me about the caves once." Kris had to suppress the sudden flood of jealousy which made him want to ask when exactly this had happened. "Let's go closer to the wall. There should be something there, condensation from the walls, or something." Adam was right. They only had to crawl a few paces before they were against a rock wall, and off one of the overhangs steady drops of water fell into a tiny puddle.

It was enough. Kris sat in front of it and concentrated, desperately sending with all his strength. He tried not to think about the fact that other wizards or witches would only see his message if they were, at that moment, scrying themselves. He wasn't sure he had the strength to communicate mentally the way Ingold had when they first came here, but he tried anyway. For the last few seconds, he'd felt an itching between his shoulder blades, had half-heard a scurrying around them in the darkness, the scratching of claws scrabbling at the rock which surrounded them. In a desperate effort at displacement, Kris found himself vaguely wondering how they were now almost surrounded by rock. Where was the big hole they had come through?

"How long d'you think they were working on this?" Adam asked; his thoughts must have been running on a similar tangent. Kris looked at him. He was still standing, was holding his sword in a defensive position, his eyes scanning their surroundings. He hoped Adam was as good at this as he looked, and winced. Man, his head hurt.

"A month, give or take a few days?" Adam nodded in agreement. "Fuck," Kris said bitterly. "All that time we thought maybe they lost interest, they were just planning this. Good thing I said we should go for that walk."

"Hey, come on!" Adam accompanied his protest with a kick to his leg. "It _was_ a good idea. I missed us."

Kris smiled at him, hoping he could actually see the smile. Adam turned away, and seemed to be listening for something.

"Do you hear that?" Kris wasn't sure what Adam meant. "Like scratching. Or something . . . they're all around us, aren't they?"

"Pretty much."

Kris almost didn't want to start the fire spell. It was like if he pretended they weren't there, nothing would happen. He sighed deeply and pulled himself up, holding on to the wall, wincing with every movement. He pulled Adam closer, and started scanning their surroundings, looking for anything flammable. There was plenty of lichen and moss growing in the cave, and he was pretty sure the strange shape a bit further away was a tree that had come down with them. A small tree, but he was going to be thankful for whatever he had here. He rummaged in the pockets of the jacket he had on, and his fingers met the shards of the small bottle he'd always kept with him, full of oil. There had been primitive matches there too, and they were ruined now, fuck.

"Shit, it's broken. Wait a minute . . ." Of course, he could just take off his jacket and use the whole thing, like rags wrapped around a stick to make a torch. As he was taking it off, he caught Adam glancing at him, in between scanning his surroundings.

"When we get out of here, I am _so_ gonna fuck your brains out!" Kris snorted with laughter, trying to keep his voice down.

"That. That was very romantic, Adam, very heart-warming."

"Oh, just so you know. It's not always gonna be me doing the riding. Oh wait, you wanted me to be all epic and shit, right? _Don't let go, Jack!_"

Adam rolled his eyes and kept scanning the cave. "We _are_ getting out of this. And then we're going home and we're going to fuck. A lot. "

Kris smiled.

"Trust me?"

Adam grinned back. "Always."

Kris started calling the fire to him, using everything he had around him. The oil-soaked jacket, the mosses, the tree. He remembered the fire, the sound it made, the warmth, the light. He needed it, he needed it all, and with a whoosh, his jacket exploded. He could see the fire burning brightly on what remained of his jacket, and he managed to extend lines of flame using the mosses, hoping that the tree would catch too. But the tree must have been too damp. He could sense and smell some smouldering, but no real flames. He looked at Adam, pale and dirty in the flickering light of the fire. And the Dark attacked.

Adam's eyes widened as he pushed Kris aside and stepped into the shadow of the horrible thing that had just dropped off the ceiling. Kris could hear the blade whining through the air as Adam swung and cut through the Dark One, which seemed to fold away in slow motion, spattering them both with foul-smelling liquid. Kris caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and quickly managed to shoot off a burst of flame, incinerating the next creature in full flight.

From then onwards, it was a pitched battle. Kris tried his best to shield them both while shooting off jets of fire, while he could see Adam fighting like a madman on his other side. It was a sight to see – Adam in full spate was as graceful and quick as a dancer, all that training finally coming to good use. On his part, Kris couldn't believe how easy it was at first – the fire just kept coming, the air was getting heated around them and one creature after another was being hacked to pieces or incinerated. The weirdest thing about it was the eerie silence. The Dark Ones made no sound, and besides Adam's grunts and the pop and crackle of the flames, the cave was silent.

But their good luck could only last so long, and it depended entirely on their physical strength, which was limited. Just as Kris was starting to feel the bone-deep exhaustion which came from over-doing the spell-casting, Adam _screamed_. Kris jerked to the side, only to see that two Dark Ones had curled their strong whip-like tails around Adam's arms, and in the eerie silence of the cave, the snap of his sword arm breaking was horribly loud. Kris scraped together the last of his strength to shoot a fireball at the creatures, who had let Adam go to turn and attack him.

In one movement, Kris lunged out to pull Adam towards him and raised a protective shield around both of them. The hammering against it started immediately, but for the moment they were protected. Adam was ashen grey with pain, retching helplessly. Kris hugged him one-armed, careful of the arm which hung uselessly by his side.

"I'm so sorry, Adam." He kissed Adam frantically. "So fucking sorry."

He helped Adam lean against the wall, all the time registering the blows his shield was taking, and knew he couldn't take it for much longer. This was it, then. The end. He remembered that first morning, and how terrified Adam had been of ending like this, captured by the Dark, used up, eaten alive from the inside. He'd promised Adam they wouldn't die like that. And he'd made plans for this, plans he hoped never to have to use. During his lessons with Rudy and Ingold, he'd asked for something they'd been reluctant to give him. But he was persistent.

"I. I can make it quick. For us." He swallowed. He didn't know if he had to be any clearer with Adam, who was looking shocky, his eyes glassy with pain. "I know a way. Of, of doing us both. I think I still have some juice for that."

Adam smirked, which reassured Kris a little – if he could still register innuendo, then he couldn't be that badly hurt. That didn't change anything about the horrible death that was waiting for them. Adam squeezed Kris's hand. He looked like he was terrified, but also resigned.

"So, you'd use the fire? Burn us both?"

"Yeah, from the inside." Kris could hardly believe it had come to this. How had they got here? Not the cave, just this point in time, this quick death crap. Would it count as suicide? Was it giving up? One after another, the thoughts buzzed around in his skull, but he kept his voice steady, and hoped none of this was showing on his face. "Like a small nuke."

"Wow. I love it when you're all butch like that." Adam looked pale, but managed to give Kris a brave smile, brave and cheeky. Kris blushed, amazed that his nerve endings were still working. He had to tell Adam. He just had to. Just as he opened his mouth, Adam spoke.

"You know I fucking love you, right? I love you. And I don't regret a thing." Adam grabbed Kris around the neck and pulled him into a desperate breathless kiss. When it was over, and Kris's ears had stopped ringing, Adam leaned his forehead against Kris's.

"Do it fast?" he murmured. Kris nodded, unable to say anything past the lump in his throat. Adam knew, anyway. Adam always knew. Kris pulled back a little, getting started on the intense concentration which was needed in this spell. He would use everything for this, everything he had, everything in the cave. It didn't matter if the Dark Ones got through the shield; they were obviously trying to capture him and Adam, else they wouldn't even have lasted this long. When he opened his eyes to look at Adam for one last time, he noticed Adam was looking past him, squinting slightly.

"Is that. Is that light?"

Kris turned around so fast he nearly fell over, and Adam had to steady him with his good arm. Towards the far wall of the cave, a single, thin beam of white light lanced down. Sunlight. It looked like sunlight. Kris almost didn't want to believe it was real, but he could actually see particles floating through the air, and dirt sifting down from the small hole in the ceiling of the cave. As they watched, the hole grew and the roof of the cave collapsed with a rushing sound, followed by bolts of flame which caught three or four Dark Ones which had been hovering around the light, seemingly afraid to get caught in it.

The ground rumbled, and the rest of the cave fell in. Kris concentrated on strengthening the shield around him and Adam, and watched, fascinated, as the Dark Ones who weren't incinerated by fireballs were caught in the sunlight, and shrivelled away. He just glimpsed Rudy and some Guards climbing down ropes into the cave in order to deal with the remains of the creatures when he realised that Adam was on the verge of collapse. Gnift ran up to them and Kris made the shield vanish. And then it was over.

The next few hours went by in a blur for Adam. After they were winched out of the cave, one of the last things that he noticed was that Gil, the Icefalcon and a few of the Guards stayed behind with some people Adam hadn't even met, probably to make sure the cave was clear.

At one point, he thought that he just closed his eyes for a few seconds, but when he opened them again, he was in their room, in bed, and he could hear Kris talking with Rudy and Ingold. He just had time to wish they would keep it down a little, injured people trying to sleep here, when his eyelids got extra heavy and he fell asleep.

When he woke up again, he noticed that the room was empty, except for Kris asleep in an armchair. At first he was annoyed by this, why wasn't Kris next to him? But then he realised Kris was worried about jolting his arm, and he smiled happily. Just the kind of thing Kris would think of. Wait a minute, his arm! He carefully sat up, and looked at it. There was a numbness to it which would have made him think of heavy-duty drugs if they had been anywhere but here – as it was, he thought that Ingold must have worked some mojo on it. But why hadn't he healed it completely? He could see that it had been splinted, and bandaged, but it was clearly still broken.

He was beyond exhausted, and wished he could just go back to sleep, but he knew he had to find out what was next. The memories from the cave kept trying to push their way forward in his brain. It was like there were a million moments, all jostling for position, all wanting attention. _Hey, Adam, you almost died! How about that!_ As soon as he had pushed one down, another one took its place. _Remember when they snapped your arm like a twig? That hurt, huh?_ Oh, yes, that had hurt, so bad. Just thinking about it, he never wanted to move his arm again. But he had to. He had to get going. _And what was that suicide pact you had goin' on? The fuck do you think you are, Romeo and Juliet?_ Good thing Ingold and Rudy were going to wipe their memories. The first time they'd mentioned it, Adam had been against the idea. But that was before he'd spent some time in a cave fighting for his life, before being given the choice between a slow lingering death and a quick one. This was one case of PTSD he did not want to have to work through at home.

He looked at Kris again, and noticed something else. They'd both had acid burns from the, the things, but those had been healed. But the actual flame burns Kris had suffered in the battle, those were still there. Another thing to ask Ingold and company.

Still, in spite of their injuries, and all of the horrors that kept flashing before his eyes, he felt better than he'd been. He could hardly believe it – here he was, with a broken arm, and some serious battle trauma, and he still felt light and happy, as if he was drunk or something. In that moment he was absolutely sure that the Dark Ones were gone, forever. It was as though he'd had a heavy weight on his chest for a month, and now it was gone. Now he could actually breathe again. And sing? Maybe he could sing now.

As he was staring and thinking, Kris opened his eyes. He beamed, and Adam found himself smiling back, forgetting everything else, the ache from his arm, the terror in the cave, everything.

"You're awake!" Kris said, yawning hugely. "The others said that as soon as you get up, we can go and join them in the dining hall, to see what happens now."

Adam frowned. "_What happens now_? What happens now is that we go the fuck home, with no stops in between. Right?" he faltered, losing his momentum. What could hold them up now? How long had he been asleep, anyway? "How long was I out for?"

Kris looked like he didn't want to answer, but then he just shrugged.

"All day, and all night. I just left you once, an hour ago, to see what was happening."

Adam couldn't believe his ears. He wanted to explode at everyone for letting him sack out for so long, but he probably needed it. He went to get up, and staggered slightly. Kris rushed over to help him, and Adam batted his hands away.

"I can _walk_! Sheesh. It's my arm that's broken, not my leg. And _why_ is my arm still broken? And I'm naked! Why, Kris, shame on you, taking advantage of my unconscious state!"

Weeks ago, Kris would have blushed deeply, and mumbled something about just wanting to help. This Kris just flushed a little, but then rolled his eyes, secure in his knowledge that Adam couldn't be serious. In fact, he wasn't.

"That was the _worst_ Southern accent I've heard in my life. And I've heard plenty. Now come on, Scarlett, they're all waiting for us." Adam giggled, and started to pull his pants on, quirking an eyebrow at Kris who immediately realised that Adam couldn't get them on with one hand, and that he'd better do this fast or Ingold and the rest would start sending out search parties.

Twenty minutes later, Adam grabbed Kris before he could rush into the dining hall.

"Wait a minute, your hair's a mess."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Kris asked, but smiling and blushing a bit. He could see a few bite marks on Adam's neck, but he wasn't going to mention them. Bad enough Adam called him his little vampire when he made them. No, he wasn't going to think of that, at all. They were late enough already.

"So. Not today. Ok." Kris hoped his disappointment wasn't that obvious. He snuck a sidelong glance at Adam, who was frozen next to him, his arm in a sling, deathly pale except for two spots of colour high up on his cheeks. Kris expected Adam to burst out in a gabble of words and desperate arguments, but Adam had changed over here. He was waiting for the reason, before he really lost it.

Rudy, once again, was the one who explained.

"We need to make sure the spell is foolproof, and safe. There's no margin of error with this one. It's a thin line between selective memory erasure and frontal lobotomy, and it's one we don't want to cross."

"Also, we need to make sure that they're all gone," Gil interrupted. "We had people on patrol all night yesterday, and Ingold and Rudy have been communicating with the whole network of wizards they've set up. It's an all clear for now, but we'd like another night to be safe."

Kris frowned, still stuck on the frontal lobotomy bit. Apparently Adam was too, because the first words out of his mouth were, "Tell us about this spell you want to use on us." Adam hadn't agreed, at first, that it would be easier on them if they forgot the whole episode once they were back, but Kris wasn't so sure. He knew he had changed over here, as much as he'd tried not to. So had Adam, but he was sure that Adam would never regret leaving, while Kris, try as he may, could not help feeling a pang at losing the magic. And he was determined to forget that. There would be no regrets when he got home, even if he had to use magic to make sure of that.

But wait a minute, did that mean he was going to forget their relationship? The thought occurred to him and his blood turned into ice-water in his veins. He opened his mouth to protest, and felt a sudden pain in his leg. Adam had kicked him! He looked over, and Adam was glaring, shaking his head. Oh. He'd forgotten he made the whole thing up, no matter that it was true _now_. And the way Adam was looking, maybe he had a plan.

"It is an ancient spell, the _gnodyrr_. It was used for mind control," thundered Ingold, clearly enjoying the drama. Then he noticed Gil was glaring at him, and he toned it down a little.

"But we have modified it for this purpose, and we will make subtle changes in your blood chemistry, to leave traces which will suggest that you have been drugged. That, and the fact that you are both injured will help gain you sympathy, and deflect any intensive inquiries into your disappearance. Though," and here he twinkled mischievously, "I still do not understand why the vanishing of an impoverished actor and a university student should cause such an uproar."

This time it was Adam who blushed, and Kris looked away, unwilling to meet anyone's eyes.

"Oh, that." Adam tried to sound casual. "We might be . . . kinda famous. Sort of. Minor celebrities, if you will." He waved his good arm around dismissively.

_If you will_? Kris hazarded a look at Adam who shrugged. Rudy burst out laughing, making him jump.

"Yeah, we kinda guessed there was more to it than what you said. I was going to ask you if you wanted to marry that guitar!"

Kris smiled back, then added quickly, "Adam's amazing, though. You should hear him sing- you can, Adam, can't you? You can sing now?"

Adam beamed at him, happier than he'd looked for a long time. "Yes. I can sing now."

It turned out that Kris must have given away more than he thought, especially that evening when Rudy gave him the guitar. Gil and Rudy had planned a huge dinner followed by a musical evening for their last night in Darwath. Kris looked around the table, and could see King Altir talking animatedly with Ingold, about fifteen Guards having a drinking competition and teasing Adam with accusations of having broken his own arm to get out of training, and a small group of people chatting with Rudy.

The most surprising of them for Kris and Adam had been a lady in her forties, beautiful with the colouring of the Wathe, her long black hair streaked with grey. She had been introduced to them as the Queen Mother, but Rudy just called her Minalde, or Alde – which was ok, apparently, because they had been lovers for the past quarter-century. Kris had been stunned as Gil quickly explained how Rudy and Alde'd fallen in love at first sight when they'd both come over, but that they could never marry because the Church didn't approve of wizards. Especially wizards getting married to royalty. Adam had grabbed his hand under the table and squeezed it, and Kris could feel a lump in his throat.

"So!" Ingold said, clapping his hand for silence. "Tonight is our last night with our guests, Kris and Adam. And I have been told some musical entertainment is in store!"

Rudy was nodding enthusiastically.

"I have a request!" he slurred happily, waving the wine cup. He got up and whispered in Kris's ear. Kris laughed.

"Sure, I know that one!" He turned to Adam and murmured the name of the song, hoping that Adam knew it too. Adam grinned, and nodded.

"Mama Cass?"

"Oh yeah. Mama Cass it is. And people had better be slow dancing here. We insist."

Kris started the simple melody, and Adam's voice filled the room. Kris closed his eyes and lost himself in the tune, as Adam sang. _Say "Nighty night" and kiss me, Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me;_ the words were echoing in his head, sweet and sad and hopeful at the same time.

When he opened his eyes again, Rudy and Minalde were dancing with their arms around each other, her head buried in his shoulder, and Rudy caught his eye and gave Kris a thumbs up. Gil was pushed by about four Guards towards Ingold, and they joined Rudy and Alde. Soon everyone was pairing off. The small hard-eyed woman Adam had told him was called Melantrys was winding herself around a tall black woman who'd come all the way from Alketch, the southernmost continent in this world, to join the Royal Guard. Gnift was trying to persuade a icy-pale, white-blond woman in her fifties to dance with him; one of the Icefalcon's people, he assumed. And so on. It had been so long since he heard Adam sing, he'd almost forgotten how beautiful his voice was. Just as he thought that, Adam caught his eye and winked. That was his, 'I've got plans for you' expression. Kris blushed and looked at his guitar. He'd almost dropped a note there.

Stumbling towards their room, hours later, Kris was lost in a happy buzz. He was drunk, and he didn't care. They had played and sung so much. Rudy loved the Beatles as much as he did, so he'd sung Come Together, and Blackbird, and Strawberry Fields, and just as Kris had felt the tears threaten, and so did Rudy from his expression, Adam had come back from getting drunk with the Guards to give his twist on Kashmir, leaving Rudy and everyone agape. _Kris_ was amazed that he still knew how to play it, and on a weird-ass guitar, no less.

Adam was walking fast ahead, and seemed more sober than him. They got to their room, and Adam started pulling at his own clothes impatiently. Kris collapsed on the armchair, wondering what was wrong with him. He was glaring at him like he'd forgotten something. Everything was fine now, they were going home tomorrow, and then-

"Kris. Kris!" And Kris remembered. They were supposed to forget what they'd been through, forget _everything_. He wouldn't. He just wouldn't. He buried his face in his hands. What were they going to do? He looked at Adam, who was studying his fingernails, and didn't seem to want to meet his eyes. He couldn't let Adam think he wanted to lose what they had.

"We can't do this spell. I can't forget this." Adam pulled him down to sit on the bed, and hugged him as best he could with one arm.

"I wasn't sure if I should tell you." Adam seemed hesitant.

"Tell me what?" Did Adam have a plan?

"I went to Rudy, while you were helping the others set up the meal. We talked about the spell. And about the story we would have to memorise for everyone. He said . . . that maybe there could be a way to remember other things too. But with magic, things are . . ."

He trailed off and shrugged, suggesting that magic was, well, magic. Not a science.

"What is it then?"

"It might not even work. It's a mental technique, like most magic is, _Rudy_ told me," raising his eyes at Kris, and emphasising the name. Yeah, well, Adam didn't seem that interested then. Kris just motioned for him to continue.

"We just have to fix it in our minds. Like a, a memory palace, kind of. I didn't even know what that is. Rudy explained it to me." Rudy had explained something of the sort to Kris too, a memory technique which relied on fixing things in your mind, visualizing their physical appearance, exaggerating them in size, placing them in context, and so on. Or something like that.

"Fine! Fine. We'll do that. Though with the things we're putting in the "room", it sounds like porn to me," he added, just trying to get a rise out of Adam. It worked, though. Adam burst out laughing, and fell sideways on the bed, with his happy laughter quickly turning into a pained grumble.

"Tell me again why I didn't put a Percocet in my bag before we came here."

"I don't know, Adam. _You_ weren't talking to me."

"Oh, oh. Yeah. Remind me, did I ever beg for forgiveness for that?" His tone changed and became sensual, his voice smooth and rich as dark chocolate. He got on his knees in front of Kris and started undoing his pants, one-handed. Adam was really good at that, was one of the last coherent thoughts Kris had.

After, they lay on the bed, side by side, each lost in his thoughts. Kris was wondering if it really was as easy as Rudy seemed to think. For one, Kris had done magic here. So much magic. And wouldn't that make a difference to any spell cast on him, making it stronger and more effective? He brooded for a while longer, eventually sneaking a glance at Adam, who hadn't fallen asleep. The frown on his face suggested he was having doubts, too. No, this wouldn't do.

"I remember you promised me something, in the cave." Adam raised one eyebrow, quizzically, and then he smirked.

"I _remember_! Your ass is mine, Allen." He giggled, and lunged at Kris, kissing him until his ears rang. "But not tonight. No, really," he continued as Kris started pouting on purpose. "We have to work on this memory thing. But first, I want that lip." They kissed for a while longer, but then Adam was insistent. The technique only had a chance of working if they worked at it. "Though I might cheat." And no matter how much Kris pleaded, Adam wouldn't say how.

The next day, it was midday when they finally arrived at the clearing. Kris shuddered as he looked at the place where they'd almost died. It looked beautiful, without a trace of all the horrible things that had happened there. Kris tried to remember the nightmarish vision they'd walked into, but it was all starting to fade away, like an old photo. There was new grass everywhere, the birds were chirping happily in the trees, and it was a glorious day.

From there it was only a few minutes to the place they thought they had landed. Even though it shouldn't matter, neither Rudy nor Ingold wanted to leave anything to chance. They'd said their goodbyes at the Keep; the Guards had surrounded Adam and taken turns to hug him and slap him on the back, asking him if he was sure about leaving. Rudy and Ingold seemed to do the same without words, but Kris only shook his head and smiled. He wanted to go home more than ever.

Kris looked at Adam, who hadn't said much to him that morning. He was wearing the clothes he'd had on that afternoon a month ago, though it seemed like a hundred years had passed. The jacket was gone, as the acid damage would have defied any of their attempts at explanation. But Adam was wearing his black jeans, the bag was strapped around his thigh, and his broken arm had been put in a sling improvised by his button-down shirt. They had kept the splint on his arm, but used the sleeve of his jacket as a makeshift bandage. They'd thought it was better to leave his rings in Darwath. Crazy cultist kidnappers (which was the story they'd manufactured) were unlikely to have left Adam his jewelry. The same went for his phone, for both their phones.

Kris himself was wearing the same outfit, again without the jacket, as its condition would have raised too many questions. He was already starting to shiver in the chill of a Darwath afternoon, but he knew he would warm up in L.A. He could hardly believe that in less than ten minutes' time he'd be home.

Kris held tightly to Adam's hand as Ingold and Rudy started murmuring the words of the _gnodyrr_. At the same time, Ingold made a series of strange motions in the air, and wherever he gestured, reality tore apart. Kris stared at Adam who looked right at him, his eyes sad and worried. He went through his memory room again. He wasn't going to give this up.

All the memories he'd put in there flashed before his eyes as he walked towards the rip in the air. But he didn't see it. All he saw was Adam's laughing face after they'd had sex for the first time, all he heard was Adam's happy laughter when he woke up after the battle, all he felt was Adam's heavy weight on his thighs as he rode Kris. There was the time Adam had sung for Rudy and Alde while Kris played guitar, and the joy on his face made him smile as he walked, unseeing, towards the Void. Adam and Kris, walking together in the forest around the Keep, Adam pushing Kris against a tree and kissing him until he could barely breathe and his ears were ringing.

Kris would remember all this, he was holding on to it, fixing it in his mind, he was holding it, he was– what was he doing here? Kris looked around him, puzzled.

He was standing in a street, holding hands with Adam. With Adam? At that thought, he turned and their eyes met.

"What happened?" The look in Adam's eyes was strange. He looked almost . . . disappointed. But what about? Was Adam still angry about the whole 'no contact after the divorce' thing? But that had been . . . ages ago. Or had it. Kris shook his head, which felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. And what was up with Adam, anyway?

"What happened to your hair, and your, your- Fuck, your arm! What the fuck?"

Adam looked down at his arm, seeming to see it for the first time. It was held across his chest and tucked into his shirt, held in place by two buttons. Adam moved his fingers and winced, looking puzzled.

"I think it's broken. I don't remember how . . ." he trailed off, staring into space.

"We were kidnapped!" Kris burst out. "I think." He continued in a much quieter tone. "A cult? Maybe?"

"Yeah. I guess." Adam didn't sound sure, but the way he was standing and the sweat beading on his forehead suggested that he was really in pain. Wait a minute, when did he start noticing the sweat on Adam's forehead? A flash of memory came, of Adam's face grinning down at him, sweat dripping down. But that was just crazy. For that to happen Adam would have to be sitting in his lap.

"What do we do now?" Adam sounded lost, which was a first, Kris thought. What an idiot he was, standing around when Adam was obviously in pain.

"I don't think we have our phones." He felt his own pockets, but they were empty, as was Adam's bag. "So we find a payphone, and we call . . . who?"

"Let's think about that when we find a payphone," Adam suggested sharply. "This is L.A. I don't think I've ever _seen_ a payphone here."

They ended up walking for twenty minutes, before finally spotting a sign outside a Salvation Army store, which Kris would have found ironic if he hadn't been so exhausted. No-one had given them a second glance as they trudged along, miserable and battered. As Adam said, this was L.A.

After some debate about who to phone, they'd settled on Lane. For some reason, her number was really clear in Adam's head. So was his mom's, but he didn't want to give her a heart attack. Kris followed the same reasoning, especially as his parents were in Arkansas, and they couldn't exactly get here in a hurry. Or had they come to L.A. when he'd vanished? Maybe they were even . . . maybe . . . he was suddenly terrified, and wanted to stop Adam from phoning. Adam, in turn, was standing with the receiver gripped in his hand, and looked like he wanted to start smashing it against the wall.

"We. Don't. Have. Any. Money." Adam gritted out each word as if it was hurting him to speak. Fortunately Kris knew how to do this.

"We can call collect, it's ok." He smiled at Adam, trying to reassure him. "You just dial 0 and speak to someone. Or there's a recorded instruction." Adam sniffed, trying to hide the fact that he'd been on the verge of tears. He didn't have to do that. Kris was close to a breakdown himself. He didn't even know how long they'd been gone.

"Ok. Here goes." Adam dialled, and listened intently to the recorded instructions. Then he followed them, and soon he was listening to a dial tone, holding the receiver so that Kris could hear it too. There was a click, and a familiar voice spoke.

"Hello?" Lane sounded unsure, as someone would if they got a call from an unknown number.

"Lane? Lane, it's Adam."

"Who. Who is this? Who . . . Adam? Is this someone . . . is this a joke?" Adam couldn't speak anymore and pushed the receiver at Kris, who spoke faster than he'd ever done in his life.

"Lane, don't hang up! It's us, it's Kris, and Adam. Please don't hang up." All he could hear on the line was Lane crying, and saying _Oh my God, oh my God_, over and over again. He managed to explain where they were, and she said she'd be there straight away. Adam didn't seem to believe it though, and shut himself off, saying nothing until Lane's car pulled up fifteen minutes later, and he flung himself at Lane burying his face in her shoulder. Tears were streaming down Lane's face as she held out a hand for Kris, who was crying too.

"Your parents are still here – they came here when you disappeared, they're fine, everyone's fine, we thought you were dead, oh my God."

Still holding on to Adam, who didn't want to let her go, Lane got on her mobile to Simon Fuller, and started the machine rolling. They agreed that it was best for their parents to be informed by phone before they went home – having Adam or Kris just stroll up the drive might well cause them to keel over. Kris took a deep breath. There was the usual smell of exhaust and rubber which he associated with L.A. He didn't care. He was glad to be home. Which begged the question, where had he been for the last month? He was starting to find that he didn't care either, like there was something in his head that kept deflecting any questions. He wondered if he'd ever remember.

Three weeks later, he was no closer to answering that question. The days had gone by in a blur of flashing lights and shouted questions, complete with floods of tears from his relatives and friends. He wasn't the only one, either. He knew that practically everything that Adam did would be captured on camera and displayed on youtube, and exactly this had happened when Adam was reunited with Monte, Longineu and Tommy (Camila was on tour). He had watched, feeling like a stalker, as Monte had wrapped Adam in an endless hug, letting go only when Adam had protested not being able to breathe, and then the others had slapped him on the back and hugged him, almost in disbelief that he was back. He could only imagine what the family reunion had been like. His own parents had only yesterday stopped crying when he walked into the room, and they showed no interest in going back to Arkansas any time soon. If he was perfectly honest with himself, he was glad to have them there. He was feeling adrift in his own life, and they were just the right anchor.

They'd also been through some very searching interviews with the L.A.P.D., who wanted to know why they'd wasted many hours searching for them. It was clear that the police were trying to catch them out and make them admit that they'd just staged a publicity stunt, though even the most hard-assed detectives admitted that a broken arm and some ugly second degree burns were extreme, even for reality tv stars. Kris had never been happier that Simon Fuller had taken charge, supplying them both with shark-like lawyers, who countered every demand the police made. They hadn't even let the police take their clothes for analysis. It was Adam who had explained to Kris that the lawyers didn't really believe their story (and Kris didn't blame them: he wouldn't have believed it, either), but they were worried that any traces on their clothes might implicate them in some hoax.

And all the questions stopped once their blood tests came back. Different labs had come up with the same result: their blood had traces of propranolol, a drug which, usually prescribed for heart disease, was also being experimented with to cause memory loss. Added to that some garbled memories which Adam said had come to him, of being beaten and called a sinner, and that they'd got their injuries after an escape attempt, the police had let them be.

This had helped with the record companies too, though he'd have worried much less about his work if his parents had shown him the charts on his first night back. Their disappearance had caused their albums and all their singles to shoot up the charts. What with sales and radio-play, they had nothing to lose sleep about.

And when the record companies tried to assign them 24 hour bodyguards, it was Adam who had balked, and this helped Kris put his foot down, too. He had no intention of being kept in some expensive prison for the rest of his life, complete with wardens which he would be paying for. In spite of his experiences, and the fact that he couldn't really remember them, he felt safe. Somehow, every time he tried to think about how he got the burns on his arms, or how Adam broke his arm, it was like a warm feeling washed over him, like a calm voice was reassuring him. And the more time passed, the more the whole experience became unreal.

Now, all he had to worry about was the bothersome feeling that he'd missed something, about Adam. He hadn't seen much of Adam at all after that first phone call. They had passed each other a couple of times at the police headquarters, and at the management offices. Adam now looked like his old self. His hair was impeccably cut and styled, and he was always wearing sunglasses that covered half his face, even indoors. The rare time he'd glimpsed Adam's eyes, they looked sad and lost; but that was only for a second, after which the usual smiling mask had descended, and he could tell nothing at all.

The only other difference between Old Adam and this blank version was the plaster cast he had on. They'd talked on the phone an hour ago, and Adam told him that an x-ray had shown it was a simple fracture, the ends were aligned, and they wouldn't have to rebreak it. Kris had shuddered at the thought, glad that whoever had taken them had at least splinted Adam's arm right.

"Do you remember anything? Besides what you told the cops?" Kris spoke quickly before Adam hung up. Adam didn't really want to talk a lot these days. There was a pause, and Adam sighed.

"No." There was another pause. "Listen, I gotta go. My mom goes crazy if I'm out of her sight for more than five minutes."

"Yeah, I _know_! My mom still cries sometimes-"

But Adam had hung up. Kris stared at the phone, feeling like an idiot. There was something not right about this. Something that was hidden from him, just out of sight, and he _knew_ what it was, he knew, and then . . . it was gone. He went to his bedroom, pissed off. There must be something which could remind him of what he'd lost. His clothes! They would bring it all back, he was sure of it. Something would come back. It had to.

Five minutes later, and he'd dug up the jeans and t-shirt he'd thrown to the back of his closet three weeks ago, thankful that his mother hadn't found them and washed them. So, now he'd put them on, and . . . nothing. This was shit! He threw himself on the bed, frustrated, and then jumped off again when something crackled in his back pocket. What the hell? He drew out a torn, crinkled condom wrapper. He stared at it, turning over and over in his hand, but that was all it was. It wasn't even a brand he used. When had he last used a condom, anyway? When had he-

He was suddenly immobilised by a memory of someone throwing a condom at him, and he put out his hands to catch it. And that opened the floodgates. Memory after memory came back, not of being kidnapped, or of being burned, but of Adam. Happy Adam, sad Adam, naked Adam. Kissing Adam. Adam's hand cradling the back of his head, Adam's voice murmuring unbelievably filthy things. Adam kneeling before him, wearing strange clothes, unbuttoning his pants with one hand. Adam pushing him against a wall somewhere, kissing him wildly until he couldn't breathe.

And Adam _knew_ all this! That's why he'd been so sad and pissed off. Oh, he was going there right now. He couldn't believe Adam would remember all that and do nothing about it, trying to be noble or something. He'd give Adam a piece of his mind. That, and other things. Oh yes. He blushed at some of the things they'd done – and they'd wasted three weeks! Three weeks when they could have been banging each other's brains out. And it wasn't just sex. He knew that, deep in his soul, that it was more than that. How could Adam just walk away from all that? He raced out of the apartment, stopping only to kiss his mom and dad, and tell them he had to find Adam. They exchanged a look, and smiled at him. He ran out, wondering what _they_ knew. No matter. He wasn't going to wait a minute longer.

In his car, he had more time to think, and was glad that the paparazzi had stopped camping around his house a week ago. He turned on the radio as a distraction from his thoughts, and nearly plowed into another car when the song kicked off another flashback. _Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me, while I'm alone and blue as can be_ . . . where the hell had he last heard that song? And why could he hear Adam singing it? He switched it off, shaken. He had to get to Adam before he caused a pile-up.

When he pulled up in front of Adam's house, he noticed that the paparazzi had abandoned him, too. His mother had said something about Miley Cyrus flashing people at an awards show but he hadn't been listening. He raced up the drive and started ringing the bell, and banging on the door. He realised that Leila's car wasn't even there, that Adam had been lying, and banged even harder.

"I know you're in there! Open the door!" Just as he was going to call Adam on his mobile, the door opened, to show an extremely pissed-off looking Adam.

"What the fuck, Kris?"

Kris didn't even answer, just crowded Adam inside, and threw the condom wrapper at him. Adam caught it and stared at it, the annoyed look gradually giving way to a reluctant smile.

"You-" Kris started, and then had to swallow. "I can't believe you just let me forget. You asshole. I love you so much." He reached up and pulled Adam down into a kiss, causing him to overbalance, and they both ended up on the floor, with Adam holding his arm up, laughing all the while.

"Come on, let's get up." Adam tried to sit up, but Kris just pulled him down again.

"No way. I'm not letting you get away from me again. I like it here." He started unbuttoning Adam's shirt, while Adam tried to get Kris's t-shirt off with one hand, before giving up when all this did was trap Kris with one arm in the air. He burst out laughing again, and just cuddled up to Kris.

"I love you too, you know." Adam was looking at him with big eyes as he said this, willing Kris to believe him. "I just didn't know what to do, if you'd believe me. I think I would have gone to you. Eventually."

"Ha. Maybe you needed a specially shaped cloud to show you the way?"

"Oh, you little-" Adam starting tickling him with his good arm, while Kris laughed and squirmed, and tried to get away without hurting him. They were still lying in the entryway when music started from inside the house. Kris looked at Adam quizzically. What the- _this is Major Tom to ground control, I'm stepping through the air . . ._

"You have Space Oddity as a ringtone?" Kris couldn't help laughing, and thinking it kind of fit. Adam sighed and palmed his forehead.

"It was Lane. She bought me the phone. She keeps telling people I was abducted by aliens who got tired of all the hassle I gave them, and kicked me out. I think it's her way of being relieved I'm back." Kris lay back on Adam's chest, happier than he'd been for a while.

"Won't it be really difficult, us being together, here?" Adam sounded worried, and Kris propped himself up on an elbow to see his face. He _did_ look worried, but still pretty happy. Kris dropped a quick kiss before he answered.

"They thought we were dead! We've got a month or two to do something really crazy. Then we're screwed." Adam gave him a look which promised exactly _how_ screwed Kris was going to be, very, very soon. Kris blushed, and licked his lips. "We'll let Simon handle all the P.R. He's good at that."

Adam sniggered. "Gina is going to pitch a fit." Then he sobered up. "You know what people will say, right. That it was just a co-dependent thing, 'cause we were kidnapped. That it won't last."

"What do they know. And I don't care. It'll be fine." Everything will be fine. It'll be perfect. Just like magic. Magic? The hell? Why had he thought that? It didn't matter, he thought, and put it out of his mind, settling back on Adam's chest, where he was going to stay.

"How long are we going to stay like this?" Was Adam reading his mind?

"Forever."

Adam laughed. "Sounds good to me."

"Forever it is, then."


End file.
